Divine Aspiration
by Purple Uranium
Summary: UNDER REVISION. Inuyasha x Kagome. Kagome is an angel, duty-bound to grant Inuyasha his every wish. But what's to wish for when he's a man that wants nothing?
1. Prologue

Revised as of 2/13/2008.

**Pairings: **Inuyasha/Kagome, Sango/Miroku

**Rating: **PG-13/T

**Warnings: **Some violence, angst, and bad language

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha and I never will. This is for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

**A/N: **This is the revised version. If anyone wants the original, just let me know… I'd be more than willing to send it to you, although I'm not sure why anyone would want it. I hope everyone likes this version much better, but if you didn't… well, that's why I'm willing to let the original stay available to those who want it. It took me at least five false starts to finally get it out how I wanted it, and finally, it is done. It may seem like I finished this quickly, but the truth is, I've been trying to revise for ages now, and I've finally got it the way I wanted it. I hope you enjoyed this and the rest of the story.

Happy reading!

* * *

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: PROLOGUE**

* * *

Depression and guilt clung to him in thick, unrelenting waves.

It went beyond just simple sadness—it was molded into the very recesses of his soul, dipped deep down into the very fabric of his existence.

The Entity felt it with just as much empathy as she felt other people's pain; it was horrible and difficult to endure, but just as with others, she shouldered the burden, the pain, the suffering. She felt what he felt, allowed the guilt to torture her as it tortured him, and even with the nightmares that filtered into her mind—horrible nightmares, bloody nightmares, dangerous nightmares—she would continue to share his pain, just as she felt the pain of thousands of others.

It was just a tiny pinprick in the overall scale of things; so many other people suffered just as vividly as he did, but the more she suffered the pain alongside of him, the more unbearable it became. It weighed down her heart, floundered about inside of her, strong and hot and heavy, and when she finally allowed his latest nightmare to manifest, it clung to the vestiges of her sleep-conscious mind, vicious and unrelenting.

Slowly the Entity rose from the luminescent patch of sunflowers, shielding her eyes against the brightness of the sun. Positive emotion swirled about her in an attempt to comfort—she let it nestle against her, cradled it as a mother would cradle her child. The pain was still there, yet it had dulled. She felt it thrum against her ribcage, but it was so insubstantial, almost non-existent…

The wet scent of wispy clouds clung to her incorporeal form, and the Entity moved through the Sanctuary. There were others there, others that felt just as effortlessly as she did, but they did not acknowledge her. There was hardly any acknowledgement here, hardly any interactions—Entities held their burdens aloft on their own.

They were the only ones with the strength to.

Quietly, the Entity entered the Task chamber and moved towards the giant basin; it was lined with metal, bright and silver and the liquid within swirled beautifully. She could feel it pulling at her latent powers, calling to her, and the faces of so many swirled before her, flashed in her minds eye. There was so many different emotions—happiness, despair, revulsion, hate, terror, stolidity… emotion after emotion piled up on her, weighed her down, and it was only the force of her will that kept the Entity moving, kept her from falling over and crying out in all-consuming pain.

The clouds swirled around her, touched her gently, and she could feel the calm serenity enveloping her… she was used to pain, used to the devastation around her… she could handle it so _well…_

Her clear crystalline reflection peered back at her as she gazed into unclouded liquid. Her fingers dipped into the water, causing ripples to mar the surface, and once again she cradled the feelings of happiness to her, _thrived_ off of them.

His face appeared on the surface effortlessly—long silver hair, haunting amber eyes. His mouth turned down into a scowl, and for one brief moment, a look of uncertainty flashed across his face before being snuffed out completely.

The Entity watched as he lay in the stillness of his own room, the darkness permeating the sweat-scented air. He stared at nothing in particular, as though waiting…

"He needs an Angel."

The clouds surged forward frantically, pleased with her words, with the decision she was going to make.

Finding one, however, was another matter entirely.

She sensed the message in the air; it curled around her like the warm scent of buttermilk, soothing, relaxing, and so _wonderful_…

More faces flashed before her, each beautiful and ethereal and happy, but none fitted. She sensed it in their pasts, in the way they allowed the happiness to be cradled to them, refusing to let it go. Angels with Wings were just as well, but his image seemed to repel them as soon as they started to merge with one another—he was hurting, so horribly, but none of them would do, none of them could heal, none of them could—

And then _she_ appeared.

The Entity watched with fascination as the fledgling Angel's face shimmered into the surface of the liquid and stuck fastidiously.

She was so unassuming, yet so incredibly vibrant. She held herself with confidence, but the Entity could see the way the currents of happiness struggled to cling to her body, to the Angel's very _existence_. Flashes of memory clung to the Entities expansive mind, and she felt horrors dig trenches in her heart. She saw the Angel's life—the simplicity it held. There was childish exuberance there, but sadness as well.

The Angel had experienced grief at such a young age—then there was anger, concern, worry; love enshrouded the Angel with the blue-black hair and gray-blue eyes. The Entity smiled gently, allowed the scent of sun-warmed sunflowers to tickle her nose.

There was so much compassion, so much sincerity in the young Angel; hate was something which she could feel just as easily as anyone else, but no immediate judgment was ever passed. The Angel loved people, loved life, and although she was content in the Heavens, the Entity could sense that she wasn't truly _happy_. The Angel yearned for her Wings, yearned for the chance to make a difference, and when the Entity saw her image merge with _his_ so seamlessly…

The guilt erupted.

The Entity sensed it as clearly as she had sensed her own despair. It clung to her thickly, unrelentingly, and the sadness pierced her heart like a poison-tipped arrow. It clawed and scratched and clung and made it so hard to _breathe…_

The tears were unavoidable, and as the glinting silver blade slid cleanly from tender flesh… the world flashed red, and then the Entity sat sobbing, hating the pain, wishing it were anywhere else but there, ravaging her heart. The tears slid easily down her ethereal face, and her throat closed up in desperation.

"No," she murmured, even as the currents sought to comfort her. "I can not. I can not choose her. I _can't!_"

_You must_, the currents consoled, and the Entity let out another harsh sob before curling in on herself.

The images had merged; there was no other choice.

The Entity knew this just as she knew her true name--_Midoriko--_and though it ripped at her heart, made her shudder and gasp in a pain that was entirely her own, she knew that she couldn't change it. He was the Task, and she was his Angel. The laws were unbreakable.

Heart heavy with remorse, the Entity lifted her hands. The message was written in the air, unfurled slowly from around her fingers, and the clouds wrapped around her once more, seeking to comfort her.

But the Entity could not forgive herself. She was nothing like the young girl with the blue-black hair and the startingly gray-blue eyes.

The Angel was perfect, and she was not.

* * *

The message fluttered down on the tail end of the procession, and the Angel tucked her hair back behind her ear as the wind continued to blow through the air, ruffling Angels and Winged-Ones alike.

She held the message by the edges, gazed at the warm summons stolidly, and then the smile broke out across her face, bright and happy and beautiful.

Other Angels gazed at her curiously, but the Winged-Ones hardly paid her any mind. It was normal for Angels to receive messages from Entities; it didn't happen every day, but it happened enough. The girl slid off her swing and waved to the small child that had sat beside her, wanting companionship. The little boy with his bright green eyes and soft red hair waved back enthusiastically, and before the Angel realized it, the currents were lifting her up on the crest of clouds, transporting her over sunflowers, grass, lakes, and meadows.

The Sanctuary hung in the shadow of the horizon—it was beautiful with it's sun splashed towers and curling silver gates. Clouds swirled around it unrelentingly, but it only added to the beauty of the scene; every Angel dreamed of being summoned to the Sanctuary, dreamed of being called there to learn their Task… to gain their wings.

Joy and pleasure rose up within her, a cacophony of loud emotions, and when her fingers touched the gates, they melted away effortlessly like liquid, hot and thick.

Entities swarmed around her, and the Angel gazed about in curiosity before the clouds urged her forward; the desperation in their push was hard not to notice… _move faster, _they seemed to say, tugging at her impatiently.

Huffing slightly, warmth spread at her fingertips, attempting to snuff out the irritation, but the Angel felt it burrow deep within her, flickering like a candle in the wind.

If there was one thing that set her apart from other Angels, it was her ability to feel. Her feelings were complex, unavoidable, and the only other Angel she had seen feel as strongly as she did was the little boy with the red hair and the green eyes—Shippou, that was the name he had given her when they first met, and though the Angel felt affection towards him, she was frequently found by herself, thinking and feeling and _dreaming._

She dreamt just as she breathed, and although she didn't really _need_ to breathe, it was a habit that she just couldn't quite shake. She remembered breathing like she remembered chocolate parfaits and strawberry shortcake; it had melded to her so seamlessly, but even so, she missed the gentle touch of her mother smoothing back her hair when she woke up crying from nightmares, or the way her grandfather was always tellings her legends and ancient fairytales… even the way her brother would cry after being bullied, and the warmth that enveloped her whenever he allowed her to mother him…

She could remember, quite effortlessly, the way he curled against her after she had cleaned up his cuts and scratches, thanking her profusely, glad that he had a sister that was so understanding…

Sadness froze her, but the currents pushed it away, and the Angel cradled the pleasant thrum of happiness to her, needing it more than anything.

The clouds responded in kind; they flittered about her joyously, teasingly, and even as the Angel entered the Task room, she couldn't keep from smiling.

"You know what you must do."

The Angel started nervously; she whirled around, her eyes wide as she took in the form of the incorporeal Entity, tall and beautiful and stately. The Angel's mouth dropped open soundlessly, and she stared at the elegance, at the radiance that seemed to shine softly as the Entity emerged from a patch of sunflowers.

The message in the Angel's hand struggled—she released it in shock, the warmth giving way to a cold, chilling reality. The Angel watched in mild curiosity as it returned to the Entity, melting against her body.

Throat tight and incredibly nervous, the Angel nodded and turned… the pool sparkled at her innocently, and the Angel took a cautious step forward, her hand extended, wanting to feel the cool liquid against her fingers.

She knelt and glanced back—the Entity was watching her with a gentle expression, her brown eyes dark and observant. The Angel felt naked, vulnerable, and she could feel the skin of her back twitch convulsively… the nervousness seemed to permeate her skin, seep from every pore…

"_Kagome,_" said the Entity gently, moving forward. Her pale fingers threaded through the long hair, and the Angel—Kagome—settled almost instantly, her eyes fluttering shut in comfort. It was just like her mother, so warm and consoling and comforting. She leaned into the Entity, allowing the soft warmth to envelope her, and for the briefest of moments, Kagome could taste the sun-warmed sunflowers on her tongue, could sense the slightest tremors in the air—

(_griefdespairremorseforgivemepleaseforgiveme)_

—and then it was gone, washed away as the Entity leaned forward and dipped Kagome's hand effortlessly into the silver pool.

Kagome watched in wide-eyed wonder as the pool rippled, swirled, and faces… so many _faces_… flashed against the surface. Each one was indistinct, blurry, but Kagome strained to catch them all anyways, even as the Entity whispered reprovingly in her ear.

"That is not for you to see, Angel," the Entity chastised as Kagome tried to dig her fingers into an image—wavy black hair, red eyes… so wicked, so _malicious_—

"Sorry," the Angel murmured, and the comforting warmth gripped her tightly once more.

The images continued to go by quickly, one after another after another and _then—_

It stopped.

The image was clear, distinct.

Kagome gazed at the image closely—silver hair, amber eyes, rough countenance—it was so odd, so mesmerizing… there was a jolt of surprise and the slight feeling of pain… but then it was gone, and the Entity was wrapping her arms around the Angel again, holding her gently.

"Forgive me, my Angel," the Entity said quietly, running her fingers through Kagome's hair once again. "For I do not think I will be able to forgive myself. This Task… your Task… it will be beyond difficult, and I am afraid for you."

Kagome gazed at the Entity in worry, but the Entity reached up a hand and smoothed out the frown lines between her eyebrows, just like Kagome's mother used to do. The familiarity shocked Kagome, comforted her, but still, she fidgeted uncertainly.

"But please do not worry," the Entity replied, releasing her as she stepped back. The winds swirled around the Angel, and the clouds clung to her. She could feel the ground disappearing beneath her feet, could feel herself being held up by an invisible force…

"My Lady," Kagome whispered, but the Entity trailed a warm hand across her cheek.

"You would not have been chosen for this if you did not have the power to complete this task. Find your Task, and do what you must. Grant him is every wish… please, bring him one step closer to happiness… try to save him from his grief, his despair." The Entity smiled gently, and her hand dropped. The sadness echoed through the brown eyes, striking Kagome to the core.

"I hope with everything I am that you succeed." The currents responded to the compassion in the Angel's eyes, and the Entity smiled again, pleased.

The winds surged again, impatient and eager for the Angel to make her descent, and the Entity stepped back.

The Sanctuary disappeared, and Kagome could feel the world flashing around her, quick and nauseating and difficult to stand—

But then her non-existent heart starting beating frantically and Kagome closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of the wind rushing through her air, curling around her so comfortingly…

It was quiet, almost non-existent as it reached her ears, but the Angel felt it down to her bone marrow, swift and sure and so _wonderful…_

_You really are the perfect Angel._

Kagome smiled warmly as she descended to the Earth... to her Task... to _life._


	2. Chapter One

Revised as of 2/14/2008.

* * *

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CH. 1**

* * *

He dreamt of many things.

Small, insubstantial things. Great, horrifying things. Crazy things. Ridiculous things. He dreamt of things that made no sense, of things that did. He dreamt of things he loved to think about, and things he hated. He dreamt of faces, so many faces—_father, mother, brother, friends, lovers, people he hated, people he tolerated, people he didn't know, people he feared_—and those were the most prominent ones, the dreams that stuck in his head constantly.

His temples pulsed with the remnants of his phantom dream; his eyes fluttered open as they adjusted to the darkness, the world spinning silently on its temporal axis. His mouth was thick with saliva, his tongue heavy and uncomfortable. His hair spread out around him in a dull silver halo, and his eyes, amber and unique in their intensity, stared out into the darkness, adjusting to the nothingness that surrounded him.

He could still feel the remnants of his dream clinging to the vestiges of his sleep fogged mind, and he clutched at it, wondering what nightmare left his body slick with sweat and his sheets bunched uncomfortably around his legs.

The answer came quickly—_bad memory_—and he pushed it away with as much force as he usually did. He was never one for reliving memories, especially horrible ones. He didn't like the emotions they evoked in him or the faint longing of desperation that seemed to cloud his eyes whenever he thought of it endlessly…

It was distracting, infuriating. The dreams left him snapping at those around him, seeking retribution for a crime they never committed—no one deserved that, not even those closest to him, and although he _could_ attest to his companions need for a good tongue lashing every now and then, it pushed him to the edge of uncertainty.

He hated the feeling of uncertainty that welled at the thought; it crossed his face, twisting it uncomfortably as the scowl he was so used to wearing diminished into something softer, calmer.

He touched upon the dream again, allowing the gentle tendrils of thought to crawl out of the gorges of his mind, each as dark and craggy as the one next to it, for they were all stored in the same way, hidden behind that terrifying void which protected him from everything

_A plate shattered dangerously against the wall, pieces of enameled ceramic flying through the air. He felt some land in his hair, felt a piece slide dangerously close to his cheek. The stinging pain was normal, but his fear was not, and he quickly ducked down under the table, his eyes bright with tears, even as a hand that was not his own gripped his elbow tightly._

_The screams were almost as terrifying as the glass; an older, stronger version of himself was pulling him through the dimly lit halls—the fingers tightened around his elbow as the yelling escalated, changing constantly—from male to female and back again…_

_The sadness struck his heart, twisted it painfully, and he yelped in surprised when he was thrust viciously in his room. The tears collected and pooled in his eyes, even as a tiny trickle of blood slicked his cheek warm._

"_You will remain here," the older boy commanded, voice cold and face stolid. "Do as I say and you will not regret the consequences."_

_The door shut in his face, and the coldness of the teenager's voice struck his heart just as painfully as the chill around him. The absence of love was apparent—the shrieks increased, and suddenly, he could hear doors slamming, feet thudding across the floor…_

"_I FUCKING HATE YOU!"_

_He skittered back as a soft voice rumbled dangerously; he recognized the voice effortlessly, even as he lay belly down against the floor, hidden beneath the wooden frame of his bed. It was a voice he heard rarely, yet one he loved so dearly…_

_Light stretched across the wood paneled floor, casting shadows that frightened him and calmed him all the same. But still, it wasn't right, even as the screams intensified, even as they rang painfully hollow in his ears, even as they caused his tears to cascade down his face…_

"_INU—"_

"—yasha."

The man blinked back drowsiness as light stung his eyes—he lifted a hand to shield his face, giving himself time to adjust.

A figure he recognized almost instantly stood in his doorway, and he huffed in irritation before throwing his blankets away from him, sweat-crusted and irritated.

"What the fuck did I tell you about coming in here?" he asked roughly, and his friend shrugged amiably, his lips curved into a curious smile.

"You'll be late," the dark-haired man answered, and Inuyasha scowled violently before storming over and flicking on his light. He was nearly blinded as the phosphorescent light flooded the room, but when he glanced back towards the door, his friend had gone, and he was alone.

Grumbling, he stalked towards his wardrobe and flung it open; the doors creaked heavily on their hinges, and wood cracked dangerously. His mood was dark. Dark and dangerous, and he knew that if anyone so much as rubbed him the wrong way, he would retaliate viciously, without remorse.

It was stupid losing himself in the dream-memory, in the pain that made him hate those around him. Trust was so easily broken, and yet he could not even trust himself not to reminisce… nothing good ever came from the sharp stabs of recollection, yet he let himself fall victim to it anyways, either through dreams or his own disturbingly conscious thought…

He went through his morning rituals with little awareness—he was used to the motions, used to letting old habits lead him. It allowed him to retreat into a fog, to allow his foul mouth and abrasive attitude to take point… it was so much easier than gentleness, not that he could feel it. He found he was emotionally deficient in a lot of things, gentleness and kindness being some of them.

Oh, he could feel it, but there was never any point, not anymore. If he was kind, it just allowed people to walk all over to him. To break his trust. To leave him shattered and bleeding and vulnerable and he hated that weakness, hated it almost as much as he hated breathing, because there wasn't any point to that _either_, not when it only led to more pain and desperation.

He was tired of living extremes, tired of going from one to the next. Life was tedious and tiresome; he hated so much more than he loved, if he loved anything at all. He wasn't familiar with the feeling, just like he wasn't familiar with kindness or absolute devotion. It eluded him, smelling of poisonous deceit.

So he ignored it.

Almost warily, he ventured down the stairs, forgetting breakfast entirely and stepping out into the world.

The world was crowded.

Uncomfortable. Filthy.

Someone accidentally brushed against him, and he snarled violently, shoving away from them, plowing into someone else—and reality tumbled sharply into focus. The hate and absolute loathing spiked quickly within him and all he could do was say impatient, hateful words. Words he had grown so accustomed to speaking, words that were like a second nature, words that meant nothing and everything all at once… over and over and _over_ again, like an endless mantra, the words came, angry and violent and so _rude…_

Someone trod painfully on his foot, and he snarled again, amber eyes flashing angrily.

"Watch where the fuck you're goin', you bastard!"

The woman looked at him with wide, fearful eyes, and Inuyasha growled in agitation.

It was going to be a long, long day.

* * *

_Thump._

_Thump._

_Thump._

Eyelashes fluttered and pain spiked sharply up her side. Kagome winced, her eyes watering through the shaded sunlight—she could feel something digging painfully into her ribcage, sharp and jagged and _agonizing_, but even as she got the presence of mind to dip her hand underneath her, fingers connecting with soft, moist earth, only one startling thought permeated her mind.

Her heart was beating.

She could feel her heart beating against her sternum just as acutely as she could feel the pulse in her neck, in her wrist, just as acutely as she could feel the pain her side. Wincing as her fingers closed around a jagged rock, Kagome pried it from underneath her body and tossed it aside—she felt winded, achy. Her shoulders burned through the cotton fabric of her patterned sundress, and she felt as if all the wind had been knocked out of her.

Her muscles were sore from disuse, and her knees cracked as she shifted—the cool feel of mud clung to her hair, and even as Kagome managed to push herself into a sitting position… her arms wobbled and burned as she shifted her weight onto them, and she felt herself groaning with exertion.

She bit into her lip, even as the burning in her limbs abated—her legs were numb, but hot, and she leaned forward slightly, trying to rub the feeling back into her muscles.

Kagome glanced around curiously, unsure of where she was.

A sparse green canopy hung above her, sunlight streaming through the leaves at irregular intervals. The ground was green and wet—she could feel the coldness seeping through her dress, combating the fierce heat that seemed to radiate from every pore on her body.

The memory flashed through her mind, just as she noticed the familiar playground—_yellow jungle-gym, bright red swings, blooming cherry blossoms—_it was a place she had visited in her childhood so many times before, especially during festivals, and her heart warmed at the memory.

Smiling faintly, Kagome rocked forward, her arms and legs burning with over-exertion as she stumbled to her feet. The wet grass squelched under her sock-clad feet, and mud seeped between her toes—she shivered at the coldness, even as her legs threatened to buckle underneath her.

"Oh, Gods," she muttered, rubbing at her eyes wearily. Dried mud flaked on her fingers, and Kagome groaned.

"They could have at least _warned_ me," she muttered to no one in particular before stumbling towards the swings… her legs burned so badly, she felt as though she would collapse…

A woman with a small child stared at her in obvious alarm before hurrying through the park. Groups of students looked at her in mild curiosity and amusement before hurrying past, whispering unremorsefully about her filthy appearance. Groaning once again, Kagome plopped tiredly into a red swing and began rocking back and forth trying her best to reorient herself with what she had to do.

She remembered the silver pool as though the incident had happened only seconds ago; the images whirling around her, the Entity holding her closely, comfortingly. Kagome sighed softly as the image of her Task sprang to mind.

The first thing she remembered were his eyes—the violent intensity in them, the unique shade of amber. His hair, which had spread out in a dull silver halo around him, long and beautiful and—Kagome fingered her hair absently, allowing the long waves to curl around her knuckles naturally. It looked so ugly now, filthy and caked with mud.

Kagome glanced towards the sky, her eyes narrowed in irritation. "The least you could have done was made sure I was _clean_," she complained loudly, jerking as a giggling group of girls shuffled past her, shooting her inconspicuous glances.

"Great," she muttered. At least her dress was somewhat nice. Well, it would have been, if it wasn't hemmed with mud.

The rocking of the swing lulled Kagome into a thrum of semi-consciousness… people filtered through the park, each eying her uncertainly, but none bothering to even approach her. She knew she looked like a vagabond, dressed in a mud-flecked dress and dirty socks, but she couldn't be bothered with it. All she really needed was to focus on her task, on the man with such hauntingly unique eyes…

_Find your Task, and do what you must._

Kagome hummed at the memory, her face pressing against the cool chains of the swing, eyes slowly drifting shut.

_Grant him is every wish… please, bring him one step closer to happiness… _

The breeze was gentle against her skin, and she felt it envelope her, calm her. It was nothing like the insistent joy she had experienced so many times before, but it was comforting, even as it nipped chilly against her skin.

…_try to save him from his grief, his despair…_

The dream-memory clutched at her tired mind, and she let it nestle against her, fleeting though it was.

_I hope with everything I am that you succeed._

A smile, small and happy, kissed her lips and she could feel the Entity's arms wrap around her once more, could feel the fingers sliding through her hair, reminding Kagome so much of her mother, even though they were so completely _different…_

"Watch where the fuck you're goin', you bastard!"

Kagome jerked suddenly, her whole body growing taut with awareness. The drowsiness fled her mind almost at once, and the angry voice reverberated down to her very core. She stood fluidly, her eyes wide as the name flashed bright and loud in her mind—_INUYASHA, his name is INUYASHA._ She twisted around frantically, trying her hardest to locate him.

She hoped to see the long silver hair, those strangely colored eyes. She wanted to see the angry face, tight and pinched with agitation.

But all she could see was a woman, nervous and fearful and cowed, hurrying through the sudden onrush of the crowd, eyes fixed firmly to the ground.

There wasn't a sign of her task anywhere.

Groaning, Kagome plopped down in the swing, frowning in discontent.

"And here I thought it was going to be _easy_," she groaned, barely registering the way the burning ache left her muscles, or the way her limbs bent and unbent painlessly.

Kagome sighed and allowed the morning bustle to comfort her.

She may not have found her task, but she did have his name.

"_Inuyasha_," she whispered experimentally, the name rolling easily off of her tongue.

Well, it wasn't much, but it was a start.

* * *

Inuyasha was agitated.

That was nothing new, since he knew he was agitated on a daily basis, but for some reason the agitation reached farther than it did before, testing the very limits of his patience. All throughout the day he had been snappish—again, nothing new, but it grew tiresome to see people shrinking before him, startled and fearful. He knew that they did nothing wrong, but their very existence seemed to grate on his every nerve.

Frowning slightly, Inuyasha leaned back in his oversized chair, his hands patting his breast pocket restlessly. His fingers closed around a lighter—thin, curved and red—and then dipped down into his pants pocket, pulling out the crumpled cigarette box easily.

He pulled one out, pressed it between his lips, lit it. The rush of nicotine did nothing to help his agitation, but he did feel himself calming, felt his swirling emotions dull slightly.

It had been such a long morning; work bombarded him continuously, and the more he worked, the more he hated it. But the motions were comfortable—arguing, while he was not always good at it, was something that he could do easily. His abrasive nature allowed for it, even if it did put people off.

Rubbing his temples tiredly, he propped his feet onto his desk and stared blankly at his wall, the dream-memory coming back quickly, effortlessly. It flowed through him, vicious and angry, causing his eyes to bleed violence.

Inuyasha licked his lips and took another impatient puff of his cigarette—_shattered glass, thin trails of blood, loud discordant screams_—when flashes permeated his mind and flowed through it like thick molasses.

It wasn't one of the worst, not by far, but he hated thinking about it, hated replaying it over and over again in his mind. His secretary had noticed something was up the moment he stalked into his office and slammed his door shut behind him, but she hadn't bothered to mess with him. She knew his moods just as well as he knew hers; she was one of the only people he trusted, despite how tenuous that trust was. Trust was easily broken… he'd seen it broken enough times, seen it shattered just as easily as glossy ceramic plates—_I FUCKING HATE YOU_—

Inuyasha growled in annoyance, the sound of his feet hitting the ground reverberating throughout the room, and stubbed out his cigarette, only to pull out another.

He lit that, too, puffed on it impatiently, and the nicotine flooded his brain just as quickly as before.

The bright lights hummed over head—slow, subtle, and constant—reminding him of shadow-light, spilling seamlessly over his bedroom floor, the scent of dust nearly choking him as he huddled under his black oak-framed bed in desperate terror—_you will stay here… do as I say and you will not regret the consequences_—and the screams… oh how those screams used to haunt him, leave him trembling with night-terrors as he gazed around his room with wide eyes.

He could remember another terror, too, as his mind fought him to venture down the hall, to slip into a room that was not his own and seek comfort from one who would merely glare at him in sleep-anger... send him away... refuse his childish pleas…

"Fuck," Inuyasha muttered, slamming his head against the desk. The silence buzzed around him, and he held his cigarette loosely between his fingers, wishing he hadn't dreamt that night, wishing he hadn't remembered, wishing it would just _go away…_

"Are you all right?"

Inuyasha jerked upright suddenly and glared, his fist tightening convulsively at the sight of the young woman standing in his doorway.

"What the hell do you want?"

His secretary sighed, pushing her long black-brown hair over shoulder as she gripped six large manila folders in her arms.

"You asked me to get your case files," she deadpanned, though her burgundy-tinted eyes shined with amusement. "There's a whole box on my desk, but this is just the preliminary information."

"Keh," Inuyasha spat in irritation.

There was a pause, long and tense and uncomfortable, and then the woman spoke up again, her voice tinted with concern.

"Bad night?"

Inuyasha glowered. "That's none of your fucking business."

His secretary sighed.

"Of course," she said tightly, shaking her head. "I shouldn't have pried."

"Damn right," he said through a drag. The secretary rolled her eyes then turned to leave.

"Sango," Inuyasha called suddenly, halting the irritated woman in her tracks. She paused, turned to look at him, but her face wasn't the soft, gentle expression he was used to seeing. Yes, it was there, but there was something hard in place, something strong and impassible that had Inuyasha nearly quailing under the hard stare.

"Yes?" she asked softly, but there was a deadly underlining tone that suggested she chafed at being dismissed so easily.

Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably and put his cigarette out—Sango watched him carefully, her expression stolid.

"Look, I…"

"Don't bother," Sango responded with a dismissive wave, though her expression was still tight. "Anyways, I also wanted to let you know that Miroku said he couldn't make it today—something about re-registering for the exams." Sango paused thoughtfully and sighed. "I really don't know why he keeps trying to pass them. He's failed so many times already…"

"Yeah, well," Inuyasha muttered sullenly, averting his eyes. Uncertainty flickered at the edge of his consciousness, but he brushed it away without a thought. Sango glanced at him curiously, and the gentleness seeped back into her expression once again.

"So, we could go to lunch if you feel up to it." Inuyasha shrugged nonchalantly at her offer; Sango smiled tensely, then turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Inuyasha leaned forward sulkily, the quiet of the office weighing down on him. His temples ached at his frustration, and almost as soon as he was alone, the dream-memory slammed back into his head once again, making his eyes sting with ill-suppressed anger.

"Fuck," he snarled again, crushing his almost empty pack of cigarettes in his fist. His forehead connected with his unorganized desk, and his eyes clenched tight in annoyance. The dream-memory continued to play over and over again in his mind, like a broken record, painful, desperate and traumatizing. It was nothing more than a quick flash, like an old flickering movie reel—

"_INUYASHA!"_

_A figure knelt next to his bed, and pretty brown eyes peered through the darkness, lined with worry._

"_Come on, love, come out now. It's all right." _

_A hand, pale and ivory and familiar stretched out to him, and he went to reach for it quickly, but then it was yanked back harshly, roughly, violently._

"_You stay the fuck away from him!" That voice was one that haunted him relentlessly, loud and horrible and vicious, and Inuyasha scrambled out from his dusty hiding place, eyes wide and fearful._

"_Mom!"_

"_Stay there, love, mommy's all right!"_

_He watched as she was dragged forcefully from the room, struggling and alight with anger—fingers dug into skin, drawing blood, and fear clutched at Inuyasha's tiny heart, even as he scrambled from the room, following the horrible fight as it progressed down the hall and into the study._

"_Mom!" he called desperately, filled with terror. _

_A hand gripped him by his collar then, just as he tried to dive to her, just as he finally processed the way blood dripped from her eye and down her face, staining her white blouse crimson. It pulled him back, choked him with his shirt, and he struggled frantically, wanting to hold his mother, wanting to make sure she was safe and unhurt and _okay—

_He was thrown into his room again, and before he could process what was going on, a fist connected with his temple, sending him staggering._

"_I will not tell you again," the older boy repeated. "You will remain here or be punished severely."_

"_But mom—"_

"_Your mother will not be harmed. Stay here." The older boy paused then stared at him coldly, causing fear to consume him. "Am I understood **Inuyasha**?"_

_The young boy closed his eyes, hating the way he said his name so coldly, so emotionlessly…_

_**Inuyasha**—_

_Inuyasha…_

"INUYASHA!"

Inuyasha jerked upright, surging to his feet almost immediately. His eyes bled rage and his fists were clenched so tightly, his knuckles were white. His palms ached with the ferocity at which his nails dug into his skin, but he was used to pain (_had felt so much worse, he knew_) that he didn't even notice the sting as nails pierced rough flesh, or the way they started to bead faintly with blood.

He stared at Sango, wild and frantic, and the woman stepped into his office slowly, closing the door behind her.

"Inu—"

"Shut up," he spat harshly, turning away to glare out the window. "Just shut the hell up."

He heard a sigh, loud and impatient and frustrated, but he didn't bother with remorse. He was so tired, so fed up with this stupid fucking _memory_—

"Your twelve o'clock just cancelled and you have a deposition scheduled for one thirty. Just thought you ought to know."

Inuyasha whirled almost at once. "What the hell? I never scheduled that. I haven't even reviewed the case file!"

"Yes, well," Sango replied nonchalantly. "We all know who is responsible for that now don't we?"

Inuyasha rolled his shoulders, huffing in irritation.

"I swear," she murmured, turning around to leave the room. "It's a miracle you even have a job, with the way you act."

"I heard that," Inuyasha muttered with barely suppressed rage.

Sango shrugged. "I intended you to."

She left him then, and Inuyasha sighed loudly, rubbing his head in frustration.

Motions, motions. It was all about the motions. He was used to them. They kept him grounded.

Steeling himself, Inuyasha pushed the memory to the back of his mind, locking it away quickly. He didn't have time to reminisce.

Motions, motions, _motions._

The mantra echoed loudly in his mind, even as he stepped out of his office and snarled at an intern that nearly plowed into him. The young boy skittered away nervously, and Sango rolled her eyes at him, before motioning vaguely to the box of paperwork sitting imposingly on her desk.

Motions. Motions. _Motions._

It was simple falling into them. Easy. But even as he did, Inuyasha couldn't rid himself of his agitation, or the feeling that something was about to go horribly, inexplicably wrong.

* * *

Kagome sighed as she sat on the porch, cold and wet and uncomfortable.

It had taken hours to find out where Inuyasha lived, then hours more to get there. The pull of his soul was strong here—strong, heady, and intoxicating. It left her drowsy and achy, but she was used to the ache of her legs, used to the burn and the hurt and the swelling.

She could remember the faint pain of sports, of knees connecting with cement and hardwood alike, could remember the way she was continuously pushed to the limit. She could remember her hands getting dirty and her body sweating—she was constantly active, constantly going above and beyond what she was, despite her own mediocrity.

Sighing loudly, Kagome pressed her face to her knees, the slight pressure comforting.

She didn't know what she was going to do.

Now that she had found Inuyasha's house, her mind was blank, almost absent. She could remember his face, his eyes, his hair, even the sound of his voice, but it made her hackles rise in annoyance because how could she possibly begin to talk to someone like that? She remembered the irritation in his voice, the fear in that woman's eyes, and somehow, she knew that they were connected. How could she even approach him?

Kagome had rung the doorbell as soon as she arrived, but there wasn't an answer. So Kagome contented herself to wait, despite her drowsiness. She contented herself to wait and think and fear, for fear was all Kagome could do, because even though she was an Angel, she hadn't the slightest idea of how to worm her way into Inuyasha's life.

There were so many different factors, so many things to take into consideration. What if he had roommates? A lover? Family? And if there were people in his life, how would they react to her? She had managed to get to a bathroom and clean herself up, saw her reflection frozen before her.

Melancholy haunted her eyes as she stared at her youthful expression—the Heavens were intoxicating, and time was non-existent, but Kagome had marked the years as she watched those on Earth live their lives, so unconcerned with the way others yearned for life, yearned for the frivolities and simplicity.

Six years had passed—_six long years—_since a death she couldn't remember. She was sixteen when she died… sixteen and young and filled with so much _life…_

But it had been snuffed out, discarded. Kagome could still remember the faint whispers of worry—_Mama, Souta, Grandpa_—but it was so indiscernible, she couldn't even recall what was said. All she remembered was the emotion; thick and frightened and horrible. It clung to her, because something had to have gone wrong, something she couldn't remember, and the gap in her memory troubled her.

Kagome's eyelashes fluttered in irritation and she hugged her knees to her chest tightly.

Twenty-two.

If she were alive, she would be twenty-two.

The knowledge stung Kagome, made her sad beyond reason, but there was no way to change it. Yes she was an Angel, but once she gained her wings… she would be able to venture back and forth as she pleased, be able to help those in need… be able to age as she wanted, live as she wanted…

Except she couldn't.

That hard knowledge burned just as fiercely as the sadness, and a breeze ruffled Kagome's hair almost mockingly.

She knew she could never go back to the way she used to be, not even if she gained her wings. People thought she was dead—_knew her as dead_—and if she were to suddenly show up in their lives again, breathing and whole and _alive…_

A phantom pain scarred her skin raw, and Kagome shuddered, dispelling the thought from her mind almost instantly.

It was so easy to think it, so easy to grasp onto that probability, but in the end, it would never happen. In the end, she would never age as others aged, because as soon as she was finished with her Task, she would be in the Heavens again, waiting until someone else needed her assistance, her power. Someone else would come along, needing safety from the solitude, and she would be there to expend her powers so selflessly… but time could pass… years and years and years, and she would still be forever sixteen, trapped within a body that wouldn't age.

Kagome's fingers trailed into her silky blue-black hair, curling into the soft tresses gently.

The faint tinge of sadness clung to the Angel, just as it clung to the house. The place where Inuyasha's soul resided—safe and whole, yet broken—it nearly choked her to feel it, to taste it. It rolled over her effortlessly, and as minutes turned into hours, Kagome fell more and more in tune with it, disliking it even more.

But she was nothing if not compassionate, and her heart beat just as Inuyasha's did—_thump, thump, thump—_and she would heal him like the Entity asked her to. _Begged_ her to.

She didn't know if she could set aside her past without a thought, but she could lock it away. She didn't need memories, just knowledge—knowledge of Inuyasha and _his_ past. The knowledge of those that lived around him, with him. She needed to know what made him the way he was now, sad and broken and unsettled, and she yearned for that knowledge with an intensity that left her surprised.

She felt connected with him the moment she learned his name—_Inuyasha—_and the slight pain on her heart lessened.

_Inuyasha, Inuyasha…_ she repeated the name over and over, urging him home, urging him back. She wanted him close, wanted to start, wanted to learn, wanted to _heal…_

_Inuyasha…_

Kagome fell onto her back, her hair fanning out around her as she stared at the suddenly darkening sky. Her eyes counted the stars, took in their shapes even as the sky changed from orange-pink to midnight—the stars twinkled down on her absently, and she could hear the Entity's words resonating in her mind again, digging trenches, becoming part of her.

_Grant him his every wish…_

_Inuyasha. Inuyasha. Inuyasha. Inuyasha._

The chill night breeze fluttered around Kagome, numbed her limbs, but still she stared up at the sky, enchanted.

_Inuyasha. Inuyasha. Inuyasha._

…_bring him one step closer to happiness…_

The stars counted off in her mind, and suddenly, she could remember the way the stars reflected in Shippou's eyes whenever she spoke to him, happy and childish and content.

_Inuyasha. Inuyasha._

She drifted into a sort of semi-haze, her heart beating comfortingly against her ribcage.

…_try to save him from his grief…_

_Inuyasha._

…_his despair…_

And Kagome felt it like the numbness of her limbs, hot and heavy and absent, because he was so close yet so far, but his soul tugged at hers, begged hers closer, impatient and insistent and frustrated.

A small smiled tugged her lips, and she gazed at the stars, bright and twinkling and lovely.

_Inuyasha._

Her thoughts trembled at his name, but it was too late to turn back now. She didn't have a plan, but she remembered the Entity's whisper, the one that caused her uncertainty to spike dangerously in her mind—_your task will be beyond difficult… I am afraid for you—_but the gentle caress as she descended to the earth was even stronger, leaving Kagome with a sense of certainty she never thought she could possess.

Her lips twisted into a confident smile, and she nodded proudly.

The insistent pull of Inuyasha's presence grew stronger; he was so close now, so so _close…_

She didn't have a plan, didn't know what she was going to do as soon as Inuyasha arrived, but—

_You really are the perfect Angel._

Kagome was banking on it.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Warnings:** Alternating POV's, OOC, Implied NCS (Oh, wait, please don't run away…), minor adult situations… sexual references… sexual innuendos… and usage of lotsa bad language… 

~*~

Personality is born out of pain. It is the fire shut up inside the flint. **~J.B. Yeats~**

It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured. **~Tacitus~**

**~*~**

**Chapter Two**

**~*~**

His head was pounding.

He opened his eyes, feeling the rain pelting down on his body, crimson staining his vision, blinding him momentarily as he let out a shaky laugh, a sharp searing sensation shooting up and down his ribs. He couldn't believe what had happened – his life being threatened – held in the hands of another… losing his control. The memories came back to him in a whirlwind, leaving him momentarily immobile through the onslaught of emotions. 

Through the pain. 

Through the harsh realizations of the truth.

Through reality.

His body was trembling, as he looked down at the image in front of him, his eyes glimmering with something akin to disbelief, pain causing his chest to clench and his lungs to burn.

The memories of what had just happened snuck into his mind once again, burying him under a mountain of pain and sorrow, blinding him, causing his throat to tighten as he momentarily forgot how to breathe, the tears starting to stream down his face.

It wasn't supposed to be this way – he wasn't supposed to be feeling so much pain, so much…_ regret. _

He had done what was needed to survive – he had saved his own life. It was already done, his hands were already stained, and there would be no turning back. But then, why was he feeling so much hurt? So much regret? Why was it that he just couldn't walk away from the vision in front of him, that he simply couldn't forget and move on with his life? Why was it that he had to cry for these people – the people's whose blood stained his hands? They had threatened him first, attempted to taint his soul and steal his life in the process. They had threatened to take away his control – his power, his confidence. 

They had threatened to make his world come crashing in on him, shattering him so completely until he lost his mind. 

They had attempted to leave him naked and vulnerable.

The hate that he had housed for them grew, bubbling under the surface, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue and yet – he couldn't stop crying. 

And he didn't understand_ why._

Reluctantly, he stood, blood and grime clinging to his clothes and skin, the rain still pelting his shaking body. The tears continued to spill down his face as he stumbled away, unsure of what to do – unsure of how to act with the panic rising inside of him, threatening to take control of his being. His fingers burned against the cool the air, his heart racing. He had never felt so much sorrow in his life – he wasn't sure of how to deal with it. 

The pain and the hate of what had happened would continue to haunt him, that same image forever burned in his memory, haunting him for the rest of his life

And he could still hear the condescending laughs, the disgusting touches that were unwanted upon his skin, the sharp pain as the silver blade sliced through his flesh. He could also remember their screams – the fear in their eyes as he fought to protect himself – fought to regain his control – to keep from being soiled. And as much as he wanted it to stop, the images continued to flash through his mind – their voices continued to echo in his ears, the stench of their breath drowning his senses in unpleasantness.

He stumbled, the hot salty tears blinding him once again.

"No," he whispered, leaning against the outside wall of a building, the stone unnecessarily cutting into his bruised flesh, "please, just leave me alone."

But the images continued swamp his mind, and his skin continued to feel grimy and dirty, and he wanted nothing more than to be clean – to be rid of the sickening stench that was disabling his ability to breathe.

Blindly he began stumbling, a thick bile rising in his throat, as the heel of his hands pushed into his temples, his eyes screwed shut.

He just wanted it to stop… he didn't want to see his blood trailing down his body any longer – he didn't want to feel the explosion of pain beneath his ribs.

"Please!" he shouted, his fingers tangling into his wet hair, his knees connecting to cement with a sickening crack.

"Please just leave me alone!"

But the images and the sounds kept coming, his tears continuing to fall.

No one would come to help him – to see the lifeblood of another staining his hands.

No one would have to know…

No one would need to experience the ache in his heart…

No one would need to see his pain…

"Please," he cried hoarsely, collapsing onto the ground, the rain beating down on his skin, washing some of the grime away from his body, "please, someone help me. Someone make it go away…"

But no one would.

And he hated them for it.

~*~

(**Inuyasha POV**)

My day was fucking shit.

And I wanted nothing more than to go home, fling myself down on my bed, and sleep. But at the ripe age of twenty-five, I knew that I wouldn't be able to do that in the least. Because being twenty-five meant that I had responsibilities and despite wanting nothing more than to throw them out the goddamned window, I knew that it was out of the question. Work was stressing me out, as usual, but I guess that what comes with being a high priced lawyer – a lawyer that has only lost a single case since I passed the bar. Which, I like to throw in my best friend's face, because he has yet to do so. 

The guy has been scrambling since April to get ready for the bar exam, and no matter how many times I tell him to calm down, he always gives me some witty little remark on how people actually want to earn their success instead of having the strings pulled for them. And all I have to say to that is: _Fuck. Off_. Yeah, so my brother is a senior partner at the same firm that I am currently employed under, but I know for a fact that he didn't pull any strings for me, I'm intellectual enough on my own to find my own way through life. I don't need people taking pity on me and trying to help me. 

Which is exactly what my idiot brother _wouldn't_ do because it's just not like the bastard to be so sympathetic. Not to mention it would be breaking the fucking law. I mean he's a thirty-two year old man, who's single, and probably going to end up lonely for the rest of his life. Not to mention he's a lawyer – and some lawyers might be dirty, but my brother is _not_ one of them. He's a tight-assed, by-the-book kind of guy, and would never do anything as absurd as that. And whenever Miroku insinuates that my brother does think that I am stupid enough not to pass my own bar exam, it makes me want to grab him in a strangle hold until he can't breathe. But Miroku knows when not bother me, especially on a day like today.

And he knows for a fact that it is all Sango's fault.

I really enjoy having that incredibly hot, sexy woman wandering around my office; I mean, fuck, who _wouldn't_? But damn, when that woman starts to question everything about _me_ it pisses me off to no end. Sometimes, I wonder why Miroku wants to "get-to-know" the woman, as he so eloquently puts it. I know for a fact that he wouldn't be able to handle her. Hell, she wouldn't let him handle her. At least in the way that he wants to. __

Now, I live with Miroku in a town house, having known him since my first year in college when I wanted to major in Literature. We shared a dorm, and fuck, the guy can be annoying – he's the only person I've known to have so much sex with a single person in one night and _not_ get tired after having an orgasm for the sixth time, but he's a really good guy when he's not being lecherous and annoying the hell out of people. Actually, there are times when he wants to understand people, and he really good at "reading" people for lack of a better word. He knows when not to push people to their limits, and knows exactly when to stop pushing, and I think that's what draws everyone to him. 

Not to mention he is disarmingly handsome and charming.

At least that is what all the female interns (sometimes males, which is funny because I get to watch Miroku squirm when he gets around one of them) at the firm squeal about whenever he comes around to bug the hell out of me or have idle chitchat with Sango.

The interns have tried to approach me a couple of times, but I think I scare them too much because I'm not really one for human contact.

And I haven't been for as long as I can remember.

I can't exactly explain why the fuck I hate being around people, but I do. I mean, whenever someone looks overtly disgusting or grimy, I can feel and taste the bitter bile in my throat and I just want to fucking gag until my insides spill into a puddle on the floor. There are times when I just feel like firing Sango for stepping into the same room as me – maybe I'm obsessive-compulsive about my space or something… hell I don't know. But when I don't want people near me, I sure as hell let them know. There was a time when an intern wanted to talk to me, for whatever the reason, I don't know.  But as soon as she stepped into my office I felt my body start to tremble and I just looked at her and she turned white. Needless to say I never saw her again. Sango claims that the temperature within a ten-mile radius dropped beneath zero degrees, but I don't believe her. I think that the intern just saw something in my eyes that frightened her, because I don't glare, I _scowl_. And anyone who knows me would know that I couldn't scare people with a scowl… whatever… maybe I'm just thinking too hard.

But after having Sango continue to ask me what the hell was wrong with me and then telling me that I couldn't smoke, I just felt this enormous burden weighing down on me, and my shoulders started to ache as I went over the deposition for the DeNato case. I went through two packs of cigarettes, and had to send Sango out to the store for that big box of Marlboro's that held twenty packs of cigarettes. Sango said that I was going to cause my lungs to leak tar if I smoked through the entire box, but I didn't care. For some reason my nerves were frayed and my thoughts were scattered.

I think she noticed something was bothering me, but she didn't comment on it. Thanks to fucking Buddha too because I think I would have fired her on the spot if she would have asked me if something was bothering me once again. But then, I think the only reason that Sango does ask me questions is because she knows that I _won't_ fire her. I mean she, besides Miroku, is the only person who does understand me completely. She's able to read me like a book – and how she does that I still don't know. I think it may have something to do with the fact that she has a sixteen brother who can be annoying as fuck, is _still_ going through puberty, but still manages to act calm, cool, and collected regardless of what kind of situation he is in, and Sango seems to know exactly what he is thinking despite his facades.

But whatever, Sango will always remain a fucking mystery to me, unless she decides she wants to get closer to me. 

Although, now that I think about it, Miroku would be pretty pissed if I snagged the girl that he was been trying to get to warm up to him right from under his nose. It would be funny as hell though, and would be good for sport. But honestly, I wouldn't touch anything that he has already laid claim upon, I mean, the man has been spending months slipping little signs to the woman to show that he's interested in her, but I think he is honestly beginning to crack. I think that he should just grope the woman and get over it despite the consequences that might spawn from that action.

That thought alone managed to bring a smirk to my face.

And Miroku noticed too, because he shot me a strange glance before reclining back on against the torn leather – cheap leather that smelled funny, to be exact – seat in the metro. Sometimes I wonder how the hell he could just relax in such a disgusting place, because just looking at the train makes me shiver and it's like this silver fog settles over my mind momentarily blinding me. But that happens whenever I come in contact with something so completely filthy I just feel so much pain… and I don't know why. I think Miroku knows that it bugs me but he doesn't say anything about it. And, shit, I'm a lawyer, I should be able to afford a fucking car, but Miroku believes in saving money.

Shit, we live in a fucking expensive assed town house, I don't understand why the hell he would want to save money especially after all the money I dished out for that little establishment.

But riding in the metro is only what crossed the line for making my day fucking _miserable._

Before that, I got a call from my client, Stacy DeNato, and found out that she was arrested.

And the bitch wanted me to fucking _bail her out._

And being the nice guy that I am, I asked why the flying fuck she couldn't get her husband to bail her out, and remembered only too late that her husband was _dead_. And, fuck, I got an earful. The bitch practically threatened to fire me and get another lawyer when I told her I was going to hang up on her if she didn't shut her fucking mouth and let me apologize to her, which is actually nice coming from me, since I don't apologize to people all that much. I think the only person I ever apologized to in my life was my mother.

So I ended having to listen to her yell at me for no reason whatsoever, except for making the small slip about her husband, which was an accident. I don't even remember all the charges on which the wench got arrested for, except for the fact that one of the charges was assaulting an officer with a deadly weapon. And that was only _one_ of the charges. How the hell people get themselves into these situations is utterly _amazing._

But the woman also had family, and I don't understand why she called me to bail her out, but whatever. I ended up doing so anyways. 

_Fifty_ _thousand_ fucking dollars was her set bail.

Thankfully I only had to pay ten percent of said bail amount.

But, damn, when Miroku found out that I had spent five thousand dollars on a _client_ he had a fucking fit. I don't think I have ever seen him act like such a damned female in my life. So between Sango pestering me, dealing with weird assed emotions, listening to my client bitch at me, threatening to be fired, having an unnecessary argument with the bail bondsmen, listening to Miroku complain about spending five thousand dollars on said client, _and_ riding in that fucking metro, my day couldn't have gotten any worse.

Well, that is, until I got home.

Now, I am usually a pretty perceptive person, and can notice things aren't going the way they are supposed to be, and my anxious attitude earlier should have been signal enough.

But, of course fucking not.

I just had to _not_ notice the damned wench sitting on my porch in nothing but a little cotton sundress at fucking ten thirty at night until Miroku froze next to me, his eyes wide. At that point, I had been fumbling with a cigarette, my hands unreasonably shaky and my nerves extremely frazzled. I still didn't know what was up with my mood today, but it was freaking me out. At twenty-five, I still have never felt anything like that before, and it was kind of interesting to know that I could act like a complete idiot, which if I remember correctly I only did in high school. But now that I think about it, I was pretty reserved despite my loud and arrogant attitude.

But when I felt Miroku freeze beside me, I know that something was wrong. 

Looking up quickly, I noticed the girl sitting on my porch, and despite it being so strange to see a slender teenaged girl sitting on my porch, the first question that came to my mind is why in the hell that girl wasn't wearing any shoes or socks. 

Figures I would think about something so completely pointless.

I'm pretty sure I knew what Miroku was thinking, after all, it was pretty cold outside, but the girl looked to be only sixteen and I knew he wouldn't dare touch her. The girl looked so completely innocent with those huge blue eyes as she stared up at the sky, her fingers clenching the hem of her chest almost nervously, her skin looking extremely pale and ivory under the dim lighting of the moon, and her hair so black it looked almost blue. And I knew that it was strange to be saying this, but she was fucking _beautiful._

And that was when my mind came back to me – that was when I realized that some strange teenage girl was sitting on my porch, without shoes I might add, doing absolutely nothing but staring up at the sky as though it held all of her answers.

Yeah, the question of what the fuck she was doing, and who the hell she was almost slipped from my lips, but then she turned those big blue eyes on me and I was at a loss for words.

It seemed as though she were boring into my very _soul_, as strange as that sounds, with that simple look. And then, after a moment of silence she smiled, stood up, and took my hand in hers, her blue eyes locked onto mine. 

Her hand was fucking _cold_ I can tell you that much, and it was strange to know that someone so young and vibrant looking – with that extremely noticeable warmth in her eyes – could feel so cold and clammy. It only made me realize that she must have been sitting on my porch for a long assed time. And, being the sadistic bastard that I am, I smirked in amusement, because, damn, this cute little girl was sitting on my porch for however the hell long it was waiting for either me or Miroku. And just as soon as it kicked into my brain to ask her, she squeezed my hand and stepped away, that same kind smile on her face.

"Seiryoku Inuyasha?"

Well, that just confirmed who the hell she was looking for.

Raising an eyebrow at the girl, I lit my cigarette, suddenly aware of the fact that I was no longer shaking. And the girl just continued to look at me that same smile on her face.

Well.

Now was as good a time as any I suppose.

"Who the fuck are you?"

And damn the little bitch if she only grinned even wider.

I felt Miroku jab me in my ribs a little bit, but the girl continued to smile, and I couldn't help but wonder if her feet were cold. My mind was definitely doing weird things these days.

"My name is Higurashi Kagome," she started, that smile still on her face.

And the name didn't mean anything to me, so I just shrugged, took a long drag of my cigarette while watching her coolly.

"So what the hell is that supposed to mean to me?"

And fuck the world if she didn't pull this completely adorable face as she cocked her head to the side, her blue eyes still wide and slightly unfocused as she watched us both.

"Forgive Inuyasha's manners Miss Higurashi," Miroku interrupted our staring contest, pushing me out of the way, and grasping the girl by her elbow, and leading her yo the front door of our town house. And I felt like I was going to start panicking. Because Miroku and a girl in the same house just do not mix. Fuck, Miroku and a woman in the same _room_ don't mix because all he would have to do is smile and the girl would be all over him in an instant. And the only person who I have seen _not_ be able to fall victim to his charm is Sango, but that girl is somewhat oblivious as to what the hell Miroku wants in the first place. But it's probably only because this is the first girl he wants to take his time with. But even if Miroku pranced around in a loincloth with a giant sign that read, "I love you, Sango," signed with his name, I highly doubt she'd notice. I think that she just doesn't want to notice whats right in front of her sometimes… or she just doesn't care. Or maybe, she is already someone else's lover and is just too nice to tell Miroku that he's a fucking idiot that needs to move on with his life… whatever. Their disintegrating love lives have nothing to do with me, and I'll be damned if I'll think about it every time Miroku makes the moves on another girl.

Absently, I followed them into the town house, pausing for a minute as Miroku fumbled with his keys, the girl strangely quiet as he continued to chat amiably with her, her blue eyes continuously pinning me with this intense, emotional gaze.

So I did what I did best.

I decided to ignore her for the time being, a scowl on my face as I allowed myself to get comfortable, and to put my briefcase away before pouring myself a glass of orange juice. Miroku gave the girl some indoor slippers, which surprised me because I don't know where the hell he got those big fluffy pink slippers from, but I am pretty sure his last ex-girlfriend could have left them behind.

And we all settled down, me with my glass of orange juice, the girl with slippers on her feet and an afghan around her shoulders, while Miroku sipped a cup of ice water.

And then the most awkward moment of silence passed over us as I kept my eyes trained on her, just as she had her eyes trained on me, hundreds of questions running through my mind as to whom the hell she was, while she just stared at me as if she _knew_ every single thing about me.

And it made me feel as though my personal space were being invaded.

And then, Gods, it felt like I was going to drown in her presence, feel that disgusting grimy feeling descend upon me once again, make me feel so completely _useless_ and _dirty._

The bile was quick in rising in my throat, and I was almost afraid to open my mouth to talk, and instead settled for taking a long drink of my orange juice, hoping to force the bile back down so I wouldn't have to taste that bitterness on my tongue. 

And just knowing that this girl had this strange effect on me made me so fucking angry I couldn't help but slam my glass down on the table, orange juice spilling everywhere as I scowled at her.

"Just who the flying fuck _are_ you?"

That fucking bitch just smiled, something akin to sadness glimmering in those wide blue eyes.

"I already told you, my name is Higurashi Kagome," she replied, her voice holding a note of anger and sorrow.

"What I think he means," Miroku started after setting his glass calmly on a coaster, "is what exactly is it that you need from him? I must say, I have never run across you before, and I know just about every woman that Inuyasha has come into contact with."

"Oh, well I apologize for not telling you what I want," she looked at me again, something hopeful in her expression, and I would be damned if I knew what the hell she was hoping for, "but to be honest I do want one thing."

Great, I hope she isn't one of those annoying little sisters of one of the interns from the firm that has seen me from afar and decided she had a crush on me. I really didn't feel like having to take this little teenage girl on a damned date. Plus, I didn't really make it a fucking habit of mine to hang out with teenaged girls. But luckily, Miroku seemed to be able to read my mind and started explaining that I wasn't interested in little girls when the girl suddenly laughed.

"Oh no, no, no. You've got it all wrong. I don't want to go on a date with _him_."

Well fuck her. She didn't have to sound so goddamned disgusted about the entire implication.

"I know this may sound weird, but I only want to make him happy."

Miroku suddenly grinned at me, his mind probably working in overtime at serious innuendo that could be hidden within that simple comment.

And the thought that this girl wanted to make me happy was strangely amusing. Not to mention _extremely _and _utterly _ridiculous. But, because of the fact that she was a little girl, I decided that I would humor her. And fuck, I don't care if it was sadistic as hell to do something like that. This girl came into my house, invaded my personal space, and decided to act like she knew me – I would _have_ to hurt her feelings for making me feel so vulnerable. Call me immature, but I don't fucking care. Pay back's a bitch, as Americans so eloquently put it.

"You want to make me happy?"

Kagome only smiled, her bangs falling into her face.

"And, if I may ask, just how the fuck do you think _you_ can make _me_ happy?"

Miroku shot me a momentary warning glance, which I just waved off nonchalantly, my amber eyes boring into her blue ones. And for a second, I could see a hint of determination in her eyes – a hint of confidence. Confidence that I used to have – that I lost years ago – confidence that I don't remember ever losing. And the thought of being so completely vulnerable was causing my chest to clench and my throat to tighten. 

And Kagome must have seen it, because she reached out for me, as though she wanted to help me. 

But she could fuck off for all I care.

Just. Fuck. Off.

She was the reason why I was feeling so much pain right now, why I felt like throwing up and curling into a ball and crying, and I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me in my most vulnerable state.

"Well?" I asked, and my voice sounded strange even to my ears. 

Kagome merely blinked as though she were being snapped out of a trance, before lowering her eyes, defeat apparent as she slumped her shoulders.

"I don't know," she whispered, her body starting to tremble, "all I know is that I have to grant your every wish, but I don't know how to do that. The Entity – they won't tell me what to do and – I just need to make you happy!"

Her blue eyes were stained with tears and pain, and it was enough to make my resolve crack a little, but then I felt the hot prickling sensation rising behind my eyes. 

This girl – she was doing something to me, making me feel so much pain, but I wouldn't let her see it. 

I had to hide it from her – to keep her from seeing my vulnerability – my lack of confidence.

I had to tell her that she sounded completely insane, that I wanted nothing to do with her or her proposal.

But I was only able to say two simple words.

"Get. Out."

And it was then I was aware of the metallic taste of blood sloshing around my mouth as my teeth sunk into my tongue, causing bile to rise up way too quickly in my throat.

Fuck.

"Get out now," I growled again, standing up to tower over her – in the hopes that I might be able to intimidate her.

And Miroku merely stayed quiet, knowing that I was fucking ready to maul something.

But my heart was just hurting so much – I just wanted to cry so badly…

I still had my pride, however, and I wasn't going to lose it to a fucking teenager that was slightly insane.

"But I _can't_," Kagome insisted, standing up to look at me with pleading eyes. 

But I didn't care.

I _couldn't_ care.

I just had to get away, had to make her go away, had to find the control that was quickly slipping through my fingers.

Roughly, I grabbed her by her arm and pulled her to the door, the scowl that was in place on my face slowly slipping as the tears started to collect in my eyelashes, blurring my vision slightly. 

She had started to protest, and whatever excuse she came up with I simply ignored, and settled for prying open the door and shoving her out. She whirled around quickly, panic spreading across her features as I scowled at her, my mask slowly shattering, my eyes narrowing as her eyes widened. And she was reaching out for me once again, as though she wanted to comfort me, to make me forget the pain that was swelling within my being – threatening to make me lose control.

I simply smacked her hand away roughly, my hand leaving a sickening red mark against her ivory skin, trying my best to ignore the hot tears that were suddenly streaming down my face. 

Looks like I lost control after all, and in front of a fucking child no less.

"You don't fucking _know_ me," I ground out, my voice cracking slightly, "so don't fucking act like you can help because you can't. You don't know what I am feeling, you don't know what it's like to live every day like I have lived it, and you sure as hell wouldn't _want_ to. You can pretend all you want that you want to help me, that you want to make me happy, but you just _don't_. I want you to get it in your mind that I _hate_ people like you and want _nothing_ to do with your fucking kind– "

"Inuyasha," she mumbled sympathetically, her hand dropping to her side as she interrupted my tirade.

"So I'll tell you once and only once: stay the _fuck_ away from me."

And I slammed the door in her face, my body trembling with anger, hate, pain, sorrow… every single emotion I could feel except for happiness. But shit, even as I felt the satisfaction of slamming the door in her face, a part of me still felt empty – disconnected. I felt hollow as a stab of pain ran through my body – the pain at knowing that she was the only one who was willing to help without me having to ask for it – without expecting anything in return.

She had been fucking sincere and I slammed the door in her face…

I wasn't supposed to be feeling regret…

And my heart clenched even more as Miroku's hand landed on my shoulder, his other hand massaging my back as though to relieve the tension that was causing my muscles to tighten with pain.

"Inuyasha," he whispered kindly, knowing full well the blast of emotions that I was feeling in that very moment.

But his hands on my shoulders… it made me feel so filthy… so _useless._

The bile was already spilling from my mouth before I could stop it, my knees connecting to the floor with a quiet thud.

And all the while Miroku was there, his hands moving in a soothing circle on my back, trying to help me through this fucking fit of broken confidence – of knowing that I meant _nothing_ to anybody – feeling a hate so deeply ingrained within my mind… so completely disgusted at my own inability to keep my emotions hidden under the scowling mask that usually donned my features…

After I finished retching, I turned suddenly, wiping my mouth on a sleeve of my suit, and slapping his hands away from me, my gaze icy and emotionless.

I didn't want to deal with him anymore – I just wanted to be alone – to escape from the harsh truths of reality.

Gods, I hurt so fucking much…

"Inuyasha," he said just as quietly – just as calmly – as she had done.

And I hated him for it.

"_Fuck you, Miroku,_" I bit out angrily, tears streaming down my face, before I dashed up to my room, trying to rid myself of the touches – the concern. 

Of everything.

But as much as I wanted to stop crying, as much as I wanted to be able to feel Miroku's comforting presence, I _hated_ him, and wanted nothing more than to let him feel the pain that was suddenly coursing through my body.

And despite the fact that I was crying – that the hot tears should have been blurring my vision – stinging my eyes, they weren't.

All that was staining my vision was a sickening, familiar shade of _red_.

And it frightened me.

But I hated them so much, gods I hated them _so fucking_ much.

__________________________________________________________

Wow, this chapter was strangely difficult to write. I just felt so tired emotionally, and the bastard (I mean the chapter) gave me a friggin' headache with all the cussing and such. And, as you can probably tell, I really like to use the word "fuck" and as much as I didn't want to use it in _any_ of my writing, it just sorta… slipped in. Meh. Anyhow, the next chapter will be in Kagome's POV, and should be out shortly. I _promise._ It's already half way done, so, if you're lucky and I feel like _not_ being lazy, it might be up by Monday… but no guarantees… anyhow, I really hope that you were able to enjoy this chapter, and wont hate me for all the problems Inuyasha is going to be suffering through throughout the rest of the story… 

On another note, I don't own any of the characters of Inuyasha. I merely borrow them so that I can throw them around a bit, you know, give 'em a couple of bruises, some cracked ribs and scar them emotionally, only to make it better by making them fall in love unbeknownst to them… you know, the usual. You should try it; it's a great stress reliever. Not to mention _FUN._****

**Anti [.] Poptarts:** Actually your hypotenuse is extremely interesting. It made me think about what _would_ happen if Inuyasha knew Kagome in his former life, and then one idea lead to another, and TADA! Plot bunny. However, there will be no knowing of each other in past lives in this fic… but your idea was extremely interesting. ^_^ Thank you for reading and commenting.

**Ayrith:** You are right, there is no such thing as happiness without sorrow or pain. That is, at least, my opinion on the entire ordeal. And I'm glad you noticed that I do tend to write more about peoples emotions than what is going on around them – I don't know, I suppose I feel that more emotions make a better story instead of writing about everything they do, I feel as though it's better implied. Thank you for reading and commenting.

**Bikutoria:** Of course we can look forward to fluff-tastic future chapters. Although – what's fluff without the angst? And I'm glad that you are enjoying the story so far. Thank you for reading and commenting. 

To **amberescence, hyperchica11, KohakuTenshi, SimplyTurquoise, **and **Shinsei Kokoro**:thanks for reading and for the wonderful comments. Also, thanks to the **silent masses.** Hopefully you all are enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.


	4. Chapter Three

"Action may not always bring happiness; but there is no happiness without action." ~** Benjamin Disraeli**

**~*~**

_Chapter Three_

**~*~**

 (**_Kagome POV_**)

I should have been seething.

I should have yelled, screamed, and fought until he listened to me – listened to everything that I had to say.

But I wasn't that naïve. I knew that telling him I was an Angel was a gamble – that it would seem like a completely ludicrous notion. And truthfully, it was. I know, that if I had still been alive and someone walked up to me, telling me that they were sent by an 'Entity' that I would have considered them insane – and probably would have told them too. I don't think it mattered that when I was alive that I grew up on a shrine – that I should have believed all of the spiritual stuff that my grandfather was always spewing. But I didn't. I was more the one for science and logic – I liked to listen to reason, rather than believe that there were higher beings somewhere. And, if I was still living, I would have done the same thing that Inuyasha did. I would have kicked me out as well.

But dying showed me that I was wrong.

There are higher beings, people that look down upon people and try to protect those from hurting – keep them from the pain.

But sometimes – sometimes there are people who are overlooked, that are forgotten about. 

And, it's amazing, that I realized that Inuyasha was one of them.

Before, I had thought him to be nothing more than an arrogant, rude, and egotistical jerk. 

And he was.

At first glance, I could see the arrogance in his eyes – the haughtiness that made him who he was – but when I looked deeper, when I truly took the time to attempt to figure out who he was, I realized that there was just so much pain bubbling beneath the surface – so much hurt and suffering. And it made me think, how the Entity expected me to be able to help him. It seemed impossible to be able to help someone with so much pain – pain that I was able to feel with a single shake of his hand.

And when he cried – Gods – despite all the anger that was flashing in his eyes at my presence, he seemed so completely _broken._

It kept nagging at my conscience, causing my fingers to burn in the immense cold, and I didn't understand why. I didn't understand why I felt so much _guilt_ when his pain had absolutely nothing to do with me. Is this what all Angels experienced after they had their first confrontations with their tasks? If so, why didn't the Entity inform me of such a thing? I mean, I know why she wouldn't; this was supposed to be a learning experience – a way for me to earn my Wings, to find my own direction. But I was nothing more than a child, how could she possibly expect me to know exactly what to do?

I think, the fact that I was a child was one of the reasons why Inuyasha was so sarcastic towards me as well.

I knew that he had aimed to hurt me when he questioned my abilities to make him happy. After all, who would expect a mere child to be able to assist him in a way that no one else could? I mean, when he had grabbed me by the arm to throw me out of his house, regardless of how much it had _hurt_ to feel his fingers digging into my skin, I could feel the hollowness that continued to resonate within him. And that hollowness didn't seem to be apparent until he realized that he had been completely vulnerable, in front of a mere _child_ no less.

I wouldn't have judged him.

But he was too protective of his image – too afraid to let people see him broken and damaged. He wouldn't have taken the time to realize that I wanted nothing more from him than to make him happy. 

But I suppose that I can't blame him.

I mean, who am I to think that he would just be able to except having someone new in his life – someone that could inadvertently make it worse… and just the simple thought of knowing that it was _me_ who brought him so much pain… it brought tears to my eyes.

Sighing loudly, I swiped furiously at my eyes, before wrapping the afghan tightly around my body.

I suppose that I should have been happy about the fact that Inuyasha accidentally left me with, not only the slippers, but the blanket as well. I suppose that he was simply too angry to actually realize that he had left something of his possessions in my hands. That, in itself, was another way for me to get to see him again, but I know that all I truly had to do was hand the blanket and the slippers to him, before he slammed the door in my face once more.

I looked up at the midnight sky, wondering what exactly I would need to do to convince _'Seiryoku Inuyasha'_ that I was truly an Angel. I mean, I would need some sort of proof – something that would show that I wasn't a liar. That alone, made me skeptical about the entire situation.

The Entity had told me to follow my heart – to believe in myself in order to make things happen.

And I _did_ only –

How was it supposed to happen?

I mean, it was not every day that I was sent down to earth in order to bring someone happiness and prosperity.

The Winged Angels, they were always more in tune with what they were doing, more adaptive to the environment. They knew how to delve into a persons being, how to be able to figure out what made that person tick. They were able to find out what caused a person to react to certain words – to certain feelings… I was nothing more than a baby. I didn't know how to do those things. And, it made me wonder, why exactly did the Entity choose me.

Closing my eyes slightly, I sat down on a bench that was located in the park near Inuyasha's town house. 

The park, being on the nicer side of town, was lush and green with plenty of space, tennis courts, basketball courts, and a playground for children to play at. 

When my eyes landed on the basketball courts, I could feel a sense of nostalgia rise within me, causing my chest to clench slightly. It had been so long since I played basketball; it almost felt like nothing more than a memory slipping farther and farther away from me. My mother – she had been the person to get me into basketball to begin with – she was the one who had encouraged me to do my best no matter what happened.

And it was then I realized that I missed my mother more than anything.

And it hurt.

It hurt me to know that I wouldn't be able to have interaction with my family… that I wouldn't be able to visit them personally. I would only be able to watch them from afar, wishing that I could be in my mother's arms again, that I would be able to play video games with my brother and get history lessons on legends from my grandfather… Gods… it simply hurt so much, being here without being able to visit the people who were my anchors through life.

Tears were streaming down my face before I even realized it had happened.

My throat, it had tightened so completely, and my chest was clenching painfully. 

The Entity, how did she expect me to be able to stay away from them? To be able to live this momentary life without going near them – without being able to see their smiling faces once again? 

They had already taken most of my memories away, leaving me with the fragments of their love, and now – now I was alive, now I was able to _see_ them again, now that I was able to hug them and hold them until I couldn't feel anymore… I just _couldn't._

And I wanted to hate them, to feel some sort of ill will towards the Entity, but I simply _couldn't._

I could be angry, I could be distraught, but I just couldn't _hate_ them.

Trembling, I pulled my knees to my chest, and rested my head atop them, the tears still streaming down my face.

I felt so disjointed… so unable to comprehend what I was feeling within that moment.

They had taken away the parts of my memory, the parts that would have been able to let me feel hate once again – that might have been able to spark and anger deeper than hate within me. But I was an Angel – and Angels shouldn't have been able to feel hate. 

I just wanted so much to be different from the other Angels – to not _be_ an Angel but…

I was suffering from that hollow loneliness that plagued all Angels – the ones that didn't have their Wings – that were forced to dwell within that depth of solitude within the Heavens.

Gods, this feeling of being alone had never hurt so completely…

I didn't want to feel alone; I didn't want to have to wait within this darkness, regardless of how beautiful it was, until Inuyasha warmed up to me – until the Entity realized that I wasn't truly ready for this job, that I wasn't truly prepared to help someone through their pain when I couldn't seem to overcome my own.

And if this was what it was like to be human, I didn't want to deal with it any longer.

But… I really wanted to see them – I missed them so much…

And I wasn't supposed to.

Suddenly, my heart – it felt as though it were being ripped in two, almost as though someone had dug a huge gaping hole through it. 

I felt hollow, insignificant and – I didn't want to be somewhere that reminded me of them, of the people that I had lost so long ago… I didn't want to have to see their smiling faces flashing through my mind… I didn't want to remember the kind loving words that they give me. I just didn't want to hurt anymore… I simply _couldn't_.

I needed to get away from there – from all of the fragmented memories… the icy solitude that was suffocating me… the dark isolation that was causing my heart to clench painfully and my eyes to water with blinding hot tears. 

I stood up quickly, bundling the blanket in my arms, feeling completely overwhelmed and rushed. The memories – the dreams had felt so distant were now hounding down upon my mind, creating and unnecessary burden. 

So I ran.

And as I was running – running from my memories – I just couldn't think straight. All I knew was that I was in pain, that I needed to escape – to find a way away from it. It didn't occur to me that I could hate people because of that – that others would suffer due to my selfishness. But, when I was still alive, I hadn't really cared about other people's emotions either. I was always considered selfish and arrogant, a young girl who was able to take life in stride without caring who she stepped on. I had never believed myself to be like that, so completely uncaring, but as I began to slow to a walk – these sudden thoughts running through my mind I realized that… I truly was selfish. I was thinking only of myself and not of the others that I needed to help – that needed to find a happiness that I was capable of finding completely on their own. 

I froze in the middle of the sidewalk, feeling lights boring down on me, people pushing past me through the darkened streets. But I didn't care if they bumped me or cursed me for standing in their way. I didn't care that only moments ago I was feeling an immense selfish pain for not being able to see my family. I simply didn't _care._

Because my heart was being overwhelmed – flooded with guilt.

Because I had realized… we were so much alike… always running – trying to hide.

I blinked back on my remaining tears, feeling the guilt pulling at my conscious, and the distant burning of my legs. I didn't know how far I really ran, truth be told, all I really knew was that I had ran, attempting to escape something that would be apart of me forever – something that I wouldn't be able to do without. 

I couldn't help but sigh, the realization only too much for me to bear.

I had been running from the truth – my obligation.

And if this continued to happen… I would fail. 

I wouldn't be able to earn my Wings.

I would be letting the Entity down – in a way, my parents – and myself.

But – most of all – I would be letting Inuyasha down. 

I knew for a fact that the Entity had chosen me for a reason, that she had paired me with him because she felt that I was capable… and I wanted nothing more than to prove it to her. I would not run away from the truth – from my priorities. Because Inuyasha was simply feeling so much pain… so much guilt was residing within his being, and it was up to me to disperse it. Regardless of his relationship with others, I knew for a fact that their influences simply weren't enough to take away the empty hollowness resonating from every contour of his body…

Sighing loudly, I glanced around, attempting to find out what to do.

The wind was blowing gently, causing goose bumps to rise on my arm. Absently, I tugged the crumpled afghan around my body, my eyes taking in my environment. I was still in the fancier part of town, regardless of how commercial it looked, trying to find my bearings in relation to Inuyasha's town house.

I wasn't successful.

_Figures._

Huffing, I stomped around a bit, feeling rocks cutting into the bottoms of the slippers… the _pink_… _bunny_ slippers that Miroku gave me, and suddenly scowled, realizing exactly what had happened.

I had been kicked out.

Me, a perfectly normal teenage girl… well except for the fact that I was dead. 

And an Angel.

And, I wasn't exactly a teenager. 

More like an adult trapped eternally within my teenage body but… I guess the Heavens do that to everyone. 

But – hfff – these slippers that Miroku gave me were not helping to keep my feet warm. And it didn't help that I was _not_ wearing any socks. And, I didn't have any money to buy socks so… it seemed as though I was pretty much screwed. Although, it would have been nice to have Miroku give me some nice pink socks, which would have gone well with my slippers. And – ugh!

I really needed to concentrate on my objective.

Which, of course, was finding a way to prove to Inuyasha that I was an Angel and _not_ have him try to admit me into a psychiatric ward claiming that I was just plain insane.

I worried my lower lip between my teeth, my fingers digging into the fabric of the afghan.

Coming up with an idea shouldn't be too hard, and I kept telling myself that, knowing for certain that it wouldn't be. Only –

It _was_.

I mean, geez, you would think that someone who was dead would be able to _prove_ that she was dead, only, I didn't know how. Perhaps I was truly naïve. 

Or maybe I was just stupid.

But – hfff! I made it halfway through high school. I know for a fact that I was more intelligent than that. I bet that I would even be able to assist Inuyasha with his case even if my education was limited.

And suddenly it hit me.

And I could feel myself grinning, feeling as though my face was going to split in two.

And – Gods – I felt like an idiot for not thinking of this earlier.

But now – now I would be able to consider myself a _genius._

Because, not to toot my own horn or anything but – I _was._

Uhm… toot toot?

.

.

.

.

I was somewhat nervous, standing outside the nice expensive condominium, not knowing what to expect. 

It was well into the night, almost midnight to be exact, and not only was it very chilly, but I could feel my body reacting to being human once again. I was feeling groggy, and my legs – my muscles were still burning from my run earlier in the night. And it didn't help that I had been walking for over half an hour. Biting back a yawn, I leaned forward, ringing the doorbell without regards to the time.

I knew that I was taking a gamble, coming here, but it didn't really matter. 

I knew what need to be done – that I needed to get close to Inuyasha, and coming here was the only way I would be able to.

Well – that is – after I convinced one _extra_ person that I was in fact dead without having the door slammed in my face.

_Again._

I think that I waited for about five minutes, not really feeling at all connected with myself, due to the lethargy that was creeping up on me. I could feel myself frowning, and once again I reached forward to ring the bell. Only, this time, I_ leaned_ on it. And, I also found myself grinning at the loud curse and the crash that came from somewhere within the condominium. It took a couple more minutes, and I could see the lights get flicked on, before the door opened, revealing a young woman with messy black hair.

She stared at me for a moment, a scowl on her face and her eyes narrowed, looking me up and down.

And apparently, she must have seen something that caught her interest because her eyes lingered on Miroku's pink bunny slippers longer than usual.

"Um – hey," I started nervously, fidgeting with a loose thread on the afghan, "my name is Higurashi Kagome and I was wondering if you could help me."

"It's almost midnight," she said almost venomously, her brown eyes narrowing at me.

And I simply giggled nervously, not knowing where to start. Because for one, it was _cold_ and this afghan wasn't really doing much to keep the cold out, considering that it only reached my knees and the rest of my legs were exposed to the cold air. And I was really hoping that she would have been nice – that she would have at least asked me what it was I needed help with instead of blowing me off to growl about the _time._ But – er – it _was_ pretty late. And it is pretty rude to just show up to someone else's house in the middle of the night and expect them to welcome you with open arms. Especially when you are a stranger and have never met said person in your entire life.

"I know," I said quietly, not wanting to meet her eyes, "but I'm really in need of your help and you – you – you're _smart!_ And extremely logical and I know that you would be willing to help me!" 

She simply raised an eyebrow, a scowl still on her face.

"At midnight?"

"Well actually there is a funny reason behind it…" I was nervous. And the way she kept staring at me as though I were something… _disgusting_ that she had found on the bottom of her shoe… Gods… and here I thought this was going to be easy.

"Wait," she said, holding up her hand to silence me, "there is no need to explain. I am pretty sure I can figure it out."

Um… the tone of her voice was _not_ exactly promising.

"Let me guess," she started skeptically, leaning against the doorjamb, "Miroku managed to charm you into his bed, and directly after having sex with him, Inuyasha kicked you out of the house so he wouldn't have to listen to you going at it… _again…_ depending on how much Miroku's libido was craving women…" the last part was mumbled almost inaudibly but…

What. The. _Hell?_

Did she just?

What the?

Oh, my GOD!

And I could feel my entire body flaming at that assumption, feeling completely disjointed at what she just said. Me. Miroku. Having Sex. Inuyasha. Kicking me out. Well – regardless of how _true_ the last part was, the simple thought of engaging in something so… not like me was just… gross. Especially with Miroku. I mean – Gods – I barely knew the guy for two minutes and I know for a fact that I would never do something so… smutty… unless I was truly in love with him. Which I _wasn't._

Gods, if I knew this was the torture I was going to go through for simply trying to convince Inuyasha that I was an Angel…

"NO!" I sputtered, my hands flying to cover my reddened face.

And, for a spilt second, she almost looked relieved, but then she frowned at me, an eyebrow arching slightly as she looked at the slippers on my feet.

"But you're wearing the afterglow slippers," she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Afterglow slippers?" I asked, extremely confused and still trying to get over my last… shock.

"Yes, his afterglow slippers. Miroku always insists on having his conquests wear those hideous pink slippers right after he's had sex," she paused for a moment, letting me take in the information, "but judging by the afghan –which is his other 'afterglow' present – you must have had mind-blowing sex."

"You – I – no! We did _not_ have sex! I went to talk to _Inuyasha_ and – and Inuyasha kicked me out! So I came here to you to see if you could help me."

And suddenly, her eyes were narrowing into tiny slits, her fists clenching tightly. Well – apparently I ticked her off… _a lot._

Uhm – oops?

"You came here to bug _me _about talking to Inuyasha at _midnight?_"

"Uh – yeah," I said quietly, fidgeting with my afghan once again. She continued to watch me, the anger still building within her, a frown marring her features. And somehow, I knew that if I didn't explain soon she was going to slam the door in my face… or, you know… maul me. But I was counting more on her slamming the door in my face. Judging by Inuyasha and Miroku memories – their thoughts on the young lady – she would not get physical. Which, in fact, was a great relief to me. Because I simply felt so physically drained… so _emotionally_ stressed, that I wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and fall asleep. But, falling asleep in a _bed_ would have been more preferable, due to the simple fact that I would be able to deal with Inuyasha a lot more easily if I was well rested.

"Ms. Shitoyaka, before you get angry, please understand it has to do with someone being dead."

And, just as I thought, she sobered right up.

Her back was straight, her eyes unusually wide, and I could just feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of her.

I smiled at her sadly, lowering my eyes to the ground, tugging at the loose thread once again. I didn't know how to go about this. I knew that I couldn't lie – it was against everything I believed in and, not to mention, it was a _sin._ And that in itself would cause the Entity to rip the Wings right off my back… that is… if I ever received them. But first, I had to convince _her_ that I was an Angel.

"Ms. Shitoyaka, if it's not any trouble, I would very much like to take a moment of your time to speak with you," I was completely polite, already falling into my Japanese tradition and bowing to her with respect, "My name is Higurashi Kagome, I am – well – technically I would be twenty-two, but eternally I will be forever sixteen. But that doesn't matter – just, please – if it's not too much trouble, may I take a moment of your time?"

And for a moment, she just watched me as though I were crazy. And honestly, I felt as though she was going to leave me out in the freezing cold to fend for my own, but instead, she moved aside, sweeping her arm in an arc as though inviting me in. And I couldn't help but grin. I was victorious, but … in a few seconds, I was going to be diagnosed as clinically _insane_. So, I knew I had to work fast.

Sitting down on her couch, I sighed in content at how warm it was the in the house… I felt completely comfortable… and, judging by how _'Ms. Shitoyaka'_ was walking towards the kitchen, she was going to make me feel welcome as well. And I couldn't help but smile in happiness. Inuyasha and Miroku's thoughts hadn't been off – she _was_ extremely sensitive towards other people's lives – the pain that they felt. And that was probably why she stuck by Inuyasha so completely. Because she knew that he was feeling pain – that he couldn't seem to get rid of that hollowness that continuously resonated within him. I could already tell that she wanted nothing more than to help him, than to let Inuyasha curl up in her arms and cry all his pain away, but I knew that it wouldn't be possible. If he had a problem crying in front of me, a mere child, then I know that he would have a problem crying in front of another colleague. 

"Want a coffee – hot chocolate – milk?" She called from the kitchen, rummaging through her cabinets, most likely looking for her coffee grounds. 

"No thank you," I said as she walked into her living room and plopped down on the couch. 

She had a nectarine in her hand, obviously trying to find something that would keep her awake, and I could smell the strong scent of coffee already wafting through the air. Apparently she _did_ want to stay awake, and knowing that my explanation was going to a long one, it was going to be needed.

She nibbled on her nectarine, her eyes boring into mine – as though she were trying to figure out what I was truly about. And, as strange as it may sound, it felt as though she were _reading_ me. As though she were tapping into my emotions and feeding off them, just so she would be able to figure out if I were truly trustworthy or not. And that feeling… I could only sum it up into one word.

_Freaky._

I started fidgeting once again, pulling the afghan tighter around my body.

I didn't know where to start – what to tell her. I knew that I would need to tell her that I was Angel – that I was already dead, and that everything I was doing was for Inuyasha's happiness. 

I sighed.

I really didn't know where to start and –

She wouldn't stop _staring!_

"Ms. Shitoyaka," I started but she immediately put up a hand to silence me.

"Call me Sango," she smiled.

"Um, all right Ms. Shi – Sango."

Silence passed between us once again, and it felt extremely awkward. I ran everything over in my mind, but I didn't know where to start.

"At the beginning," Sango told me calmly, "start at the beginning."

I blinked at her, confused, before I realized that I had spoken out loud. And then, before I could stop myself, I was talking. Telling her everything. Telling her that I was really dead – that I had been sent down from the Heavens in order to bring Inuyasha the happiness that he wouldn't be able obtain on his own. I told her about my meeting with him as well, about all the information that had been transferred between him and I through a simple handshake. I simply told her _everything_. And despite seeing those disbelieving looks she shot me throughout my entire monologue – despite her awe-struck interjections, I couldn't stop talking. I just felt as though I needed to get everything out in the open, and it all tumbled out of me. And with each word I could feel my burden lessening, rising from my shoulders and it seemed as though it were settling onto her. But it was a secret, one that I was now allowing someone else who was _not_ Inuyasha to know what I truly was – it felt good. And when I stopped speaking the feeling of elation was still creeping up on me, and I felt as though it was swallowing me whole. I just felt so… _giddy._

And Sango, she simply stared at me, her eyes wide, watching me with disbelief.

"Well – that was… interesting. "

"You think I'm crazy, right?" I asked, already knowing her answer.

"Well, it's just so… how could you expect anyone to believe that? How can you expect me to believe that? It just so preposterous, yes, it does sound as though you are insane."

Well, I was glad she was being honest.

"I would have to agree," I said quietly, trying my best not to grin in a smug satisfaction, "but what would you say if I could prove it?"

 And she just blinked at me in surprise, the half-eaten nectarine in her hand falling to the floor.

"You – you can prove it?" She sounded awe-struck, and there was a note of disbelief in her eyes as well. "How on Earth can you prove it?"

"Simple," I smiled, feeling that giddy smugness swelling within me, " but that's what I need your help with."

"Really? But what –" She interrupted herself with a yawn, her eyes watering as her face scrunched up. I couldn't help but smile, feeling a little bit guilty that I had woken her up in the middle of getting her beauty sleep. And then, I yawned as well, feeling the warmth of the room seeping into my body, numbing my muscles – causing my eyelids to droop with sleepiness. And I could feel Sango's eyes boring into me, and I could just picture a tiny hint of amusement lingering in her eyes.

"As crazy as it sounds," Sango started as soon as I finished yawning, "I think – I believe you."

"Really?" I asked through another yawn.

"Yes, but only because you claim you can prove it."

"Thank you so-"

"_And_ because I want to help Inuyasha as well," she silenced me with that, and I was surprised at the emotions she tried to keep hidden behind that mask of indifference that suddenly fell upon her face, "because I know what it's like to feel that kind of pain, knowing that one event ruined your life – that it shattered your entire perception of happiness," her smile was sad then, and her eyes started to water, "and there is so much you just want to do to help yourself only… you _can't_. And no matter how much you try to look at the brighter side of things, no matter how much you want it to get better it continues to linger within you, burning a huge hole through your heart and you just feel so _empty._ And I hate it so much… Gods, I just hate it so much…"

And she just broke down.

And her pain – seeing her so completely disjointed – so completely _hurt_, I couldn't help but reach out to her, wanting to make everything better. Only – 

I couldn't.

It was her pain, her problems, and I was sent here for Inuyasha and Inuyasha _alone_.

And the guilt wouldn't stop eating at me; her pain wouldn't leave me alone.

Gods, I just wanted to help her so _much._

__________________________________________________________

I don't own any of the characters of Inuyasha. I merely borrow them so that I can throw them around a bit, you know, give 'em a couple of bruises, some cracked ribs and scar them emotionally, only to make it better by making them fall in love unbeknownst to them… you know, the usual. You should try it; it's a great stress reliever. Not to mention _FUN._

**Hyperchica11:** If you recall, Kagome was not able to fully plead her case before Inuyasha reacted violently to her presence and kicked Kagome out of his house. Although, having Kagome go over to Inuyasha's house unprepared without proof does make her come off as naïve. However, the fact that Kagome looks to be only sixteen implies that she died at a young age and was not able to fully live her life and experience the harsh realities of the world – thus her reason for being naïve. 

**WhooshO_O:** Thank you for reading and commenting. I'm glad that I am able to keep you so entertained.

**Dfghjk:** In the anime, yes, Kagome's eyes are brown. However, on the manga covers, Kagome's eyes are blue. Thank you for reading and commenting.

**C-dog:** Thank you very much for reading and commenting. 

**SweetazKande:** Thank you for adding me to your favorites list. It makes me glad to know that you are able to enjoy my style of writing so much.

**Bikutoria:** As you probably already know, the phrase, "staring up at the sky as though it held all the answers" is supposed to be a type of symbolism. To the extent of my knowledge, people used to (or still do) believe that when one dies they ascend to Heaven, and that Heaven was located beyond the clouds… thus the reason, Kagome – an Angel – was looking towards the sky, her home and the Heavens. I hope that makes sense enough…

**ChiisanaAnisa:** Thank you so very much for your review. I am so happy to know that you prefer reading about the complex emotions of a character, rather than what it is they are doing within that moment. I do believe that the dynamics of the emotions a character is feeling are more important to dwell on rather than writing about a person lighting up. Truth be told, you and Ayrith both have similar opinions to this approach of writing. Perhaps I should suggest you going to read some of her stuff… its done really well, even if there are only a couple chapters of her story up. 

**Zonza:** Thank you very much for your comment. Getting a review from you reminded me that I needed to catch up on your fics… it seems that I have been lingering around the Gundam Wing fandom too long…

**Ayrith:** First off, I should say that you are correct. There are undertones within the story that implicate yaoi, but a close friendship as well. The simple fact that Miroku is able to understand Inuyasha more than anyone else implies that the two share a high level of intimacy, and that in itself might prove to be a roadblock for any future relationships that Inuyasha might try to pursue. On another note, the relationship between Miroku and Inuyasha also implicate a certain dependency. Inuyasha, as you said, hates but wishes for comfort, and because of the fact that Miroku is able to understand what Inuyasha wants on some level, Inuyasha keeps him around and depends on him to supply that comfort without getting too close and delving too deep into his personal problems. But, it is also contradictory to how Inuyasha perceives himself because he believes that he doesn't allow himself to get close to people, when in fact, he has a very close emotional relationship with Miroku and the two of them are roommates. And finally, you and ChiisanaAnisa seem to have the same opinions involving the characters on an emotional level… I think that you two are going to be the people who will be able to understand the story best… 

**Cataluna:** I suppose I should say, that suicide is not even on Inuyasha's mind at this point. It is my opinion that Inuyasha is not sensitive enough to commit such an act, and even if he was, I highly doubt he would do something unless he felt that suicide was absolutely necessary. And even then, Inuyasha being Inuyasha would find a way around it no matter how bad life would seemingly get for him. Thank you so very much for reading and commenting on my story. 

**RoseGodess9:** Thank you for the constructive criticism. I'll do my best to apply it to my writing, but I can make no guarantees. Thank you for reading and commenting.

Thanks goes out to **Bordering on Invincible **for taking time out of her hectic life to edit through my horrible spelling and grammar mistakes and _not_ end up being diagnosed with catatonia. Also, thank you very much to the **silent masses**. Hopefully you are having as much fun reading this story as much as I am having fun writing it.


	5. Chapter Four

*****

_"A man never tells you anything until you contradict him." **~ George Bernard Shaw**_**__**

*

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_Chapter Four_

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_~Sango~_

It was painful at first, sitting there, seeing those images flashing through my mind.

But the images of the past were always painful for me, and over time I have learned to accept them. I have learned to get used to seeing them whenever something reminded me of the past. But every time it filtered through my mind, causing those familiar hot tears to fall down my face, I couldn't help but hate myself for feeling so weak. Hate myself for not being able to deal with the pain.

My father used to tell me that I just took the incident harder than anyone else, but I knew that wasn't the case.

It was my responsibility – it was my entire fault that it had happened, and the simple fact that it was harder for me to deal with it –it was almost laughable. I knew that it would be harder for me because I was to blame, and at first, I just wished that it would all go away. That I would wake up one day and everything would be the way that it used to be – I would be the same little girl that I had been before it had happened. But each time I woke up, I could feel the difference in me. The guilt that continued to nag at me, making me cry once again. Making me feel weak. And I knew that it would never change. I knew that I would wake up every morning, and cry for not being able to change anything. To make it better.

And now that I'm older, I know that I was just being naïve. That I was trying to change something that, in truth, was actually better for my entire family. And now, that I'm an adult I know that life never works the way you want it to. It always enjoys throwing you off, changing you for the better, if it could be called that.

When I was growing up, my father always told me to expect the unexpected. 

I laugh at that saying now because I know that it's completely impossible. You can never expect the unexpected simply because of the fact that life is always finding new ways to surprise you. That, and we're all only human. It's not as though a human can predict when a person is going to suddenly show up in your life and throw it completely out of proportion. We can't predict when a tornado is going to come and thrash our homes – make us lose things that kept us stable and anchored throughout life. After all, just because someone sees a funnel cloud in the sky, does that really mean that there is going to be a tornado? No, it just means that there is a funnel cloud in the sky that could turn into a tornado. And we have to be prepared for when it does turn into one. Only, when it does, it still manages to shock the hell out of people. 

So, I guess you could say that even the expected manages to shock people. That's life, and we all have to live with it whether we like it or not. 

Because life isn't going to play fair just because you lose everything that's important to you.

And that is what I had to grow up knowing. That I lost something that was important to me and life wasn't going to give it back no matter what I did. No matter how much I denied that it wasn't my fault. 

But, even though I have managed to accept all of that, it's still painful, because I suffered a loss – I was to blame – and despite all of my suffering I still haven't managed to get it back. Sometimes, it feels as though someone is hacking away at my heart. Hacking away the barriers that I have thrown up around my heart to protect myself from losing something else that means the world to me. And slowly, they spread to the other parts of my body – my mind, my spirit, my soul – and continue hacking. They continue digging through the mounds of memories and shields until I am nothing more than a vulnerable sobbing little girl, dealing with those haunting images once more. 

Life hurts.

And truthfully, I still haven't gotten used it, but I accept it, regardless of how much I hate it.

But then again, there is always something that triggers all of that hurt and pain within a person. 

And the trigger for me is Inuyasha. I know this because most of the time I try not to think about what happened to me – all of the stuff that I was forced to go through. But I look at Inuyasha and I know his story – I know everything that he went through and I just want to help him so badly. Because I don't want him to go through life the way I did. Living with all of that pain and guilt over what happened. Knowing that you have to shield yourself from people just so you don't have to experience that hurt anymore. 

Inuyasha hides behind arrogance, anger, cruelty…. he just has so many masks, it's sometimes hard to decipher what he's feeling. But I can tell when something is bothering him because his eyes betray him. He always tells you what he's feeling through his eyes, and at first glance it may seem as though there is nothing there. But as soon as I take that second glance, I see the things that no one else has never taken the time to look at, simply because they don't care. I can see everything he's gone through, and then some. His eyes betray his masks, and sometimes, I think he is able to realize that.

But, instead of being arrogant and cruel to others, I am the epitome of calm – stoic and unflappable. The only thing is, my emotions give me away. During the day, I put on a calm face, and sometimes I manage to smile and joke around – be overly dramatic. But most of the time I keep myself calm and collected. But when something truly gets to me, I show everybody my emotions – I crack and just break down in tears. I allow myself to get angry. I don't try to hide behind that mask of calmness anymore. Because I know what it will do to me, I know that if I don't release my emotions then they will just eat me up. It will continue to build and build until I can't take it anymore and I'm afraid of what the consequences might be if I allowed that to happen. So every time something bothers me, I let people know. Every time I'm angry I let people know. I just can't fathom not letting them know how I feel. So I let them feel my smaller emotions – I let them see the anger and the happiness. I let them see everything expect for the pain. It's the pain which I continually hide underneath the masks, and I don't want to have to share it with anyone.

My responsibility.

That's how I view it, and my responsibility means everything to me.

And it was that thought that made me cry. 

It was that thought that was always burning in my mind, causing those hot blinding tears to stream down my face – to make me tremble in sorrow. And honestly, I hated it, I really did. Because I remember making a promise to myself to never cry again – to never let anything make me cry, or else I would be weak.

I always broke that promise.

Fingers touched my shoulders tentatively, and I glanced up, the tears burning my eyes.

And all I saw as I looked up was sympathy. For a moment, it disgusted me, knowing that a young girl pitied me, but as I watched her conflicting emotions dance across her face, I knew that it wasn't how she wanted to act. She was merely reacting out of necessity, trying to stop my tears – to make me feel better. And for a brief moment, that bitter resentment at being pitied rose within me once again. But I had to remind myself, she was just a child, she didn't know how I felt. No one would know how I felt – the losses that I had to endure through my life. And this girl was no different. But as she looked at me, her eyes widening in slight disbelief, I got the strange feeling that she knew exactly what I was feeling – that she knew everything _about_ me. And it startled me. Because it was my secret to bear, and my secret alone. No one else should have to deal with it.

The tears were still streaming down my face as she smiled at me sadly, her eyes suddenly devoid of any emotion.

"Inuyasha is my main concern," she started slowly, lowering her eyes to the ground in embarrassment, "but I would be willing to help you in anyway that I can. But as I said, Inuyasha is my concern alone and – any outside interference might end up being too much for me."

"That's good to know," I said, my voice sounding oddly strained to me, "but I don't need your help."

"Doesn't mean I can't offer it," she said calmly, her fingers running through her hair.

"Yes, well, next time just – don't."

"You shouldn't be afraid to accept help," she said sitting down next to me, "you should welcome it openly and, " she sniffed then, her nose wrinkling as her fingers danced along the hem of her dress, " your coffee is done."

You know, I'm not surprised that she changed the subject so quickly.

But then, I realized that I was, you know, _tired_ so I just waved her off, falling back onto the seat of the couch. 

"And – erm – not to, you know, be rude, but technically nectarines are not supposed be _brown_."

You know, I truly think this child was trying to drive me insane. But I also knew that she was just giving me something else to think about, other than the fact that I had just cried my eyes out in front of her despite the promise I made to myself never to cry. And for that I was thankful. I guess it was her way of saving my pride and forgiving my rudeness. But then, as I picked up the half eaten nectarine from off the floor, I couldn't help but smile at her – doing my best not to think about the sticky fruit juice that was running down my fingers.

"You aren't half-bad."

She fidgeted for a moment, looking oddly uncomfortable before nodding slightly, giving me a nice cheerful smile.

"Thank you."

"I'm sorry, you know, I'm just not used to… telling."

I felt more than saw the surprised look flash across her face, and I think she was able to understand what I was telling her. But instead of talking, she remained silent, and I took the time to throw the nectarine – which was starting to turn brown from oxygen exposure – in the trash, and to turn off the coffee. Which, with a yawn, I realized I wouldn't be drinking. Cursing myself for getting too caught up to remember that I had made coffee in the first place, I tossed the liquid in the sink, breathing in deeply. The scent pacified me a little bit, but I still felt bad about wasting precious coffee, especially since I rarely had a chance to buy it. Hell, I rarely had a chance to get to the store with how much I was working. I don't even remember the last time I got out of the office, let alone my house, simply because of the fact that I was helping Inuyasha on that stupid case.

I don't even remember the last date I went on, come to think of it, and that just put me in an even worse mood – and it reminded me that it was _late_ and that I was going to be getting only four hours of sleep at the most. It was bad enough that I had only managed to get to sleep only thirty minutes before the child rang on my doorbell, but now – now I was only going to get four hours of sleep. When, in fact, six would have been more preferable.

"Sango?"

I turned to her, her slippers catching my attention once again, and I nearly groaned.

I mean, I knew for a fact that I wouldn't be able to let her walk around town at this time of night, regardless of how nice it was. The crooks and the thieves came over to steal from this side of the town _anyways_ so I knew that it definitely wouldn't be safe to let her out. And, knowing that she was dead did not help matters either. It was just common sense that she wouldn't have a place to stay. And even though I didn't have the guest room set up, I knew that I would have to let her stay here. 

"Yeah?"

"Uhm –you see, I was hoping– well, that is to say – I don't have a place to stay, at all. So could I possibly stay here?"

"Yeah," I answered, "you can sleep on the couch."

"Oh!" She said as she flushed, " thank you."

"However, that blanket and those slippers," I said with a wicked smile, "they go _outside_."

And I can honestly say that she practically flushed to the tips of her toes.

"Well that's what you get for allowing Miroku to be hospitable to you," I mumbled as I ushered her out of the kitchen and into the living room, using my nightshirt to clean my fingers.

"Well how was I supposed to know that they – slippers – ugh."

I grinned. "Are you usually this inarticulate?"

"No," she answered with a scandalized look, "I'm just frustrated, embarrassed, and tired."

I nodded, giving her a playful smile as she collapsed onto the couch. I watched as she quickly fell asleep, oblivious to the lights or the fact that she didn't have a blanket. For a moment I contemplated just letting her use the afghan she brought, but then I decided against it, instead picking it up and tossing it into my dirty clothes hamper. I suppose that I could just use it to decorate my living room further – that is, after I washed it – and then grabbed a quilt for Kagome to use.

When I walked back into the living room, I couldn't help but notice how calm and peaceful she was – how innocent she truly looked. My father used to tell me that when people were sleeping, they were showing their true faces – not the ones behind the masks, but their true vulnerable, peaceful expressions. Ones that could be touched upon by a sweet dream or ruined by a horrible nightmare. But it always showed us that they had emotions – that they had fears and things that were able to make them happy. Things that were able to make them cry. And that was when they were being true. When they weren't guarding themselves against everything.

I wondered what I looked like in that state, whether or not I achieved that calming, peaceful state in sleep, and as I settled into my bed after locking the doors and turning off the living room lights, I banished it from my thoughts, deciding that sleep was more important.

I don't remember what I dreamed about. And truthfully, I never do. 

I mean, I know that I have dreams – everyone does – but I can't truly remember what I dream about. I see faces – I always see faces, but I can't remember who they were, or what they look like. I can't remember what they were doing in my dreams – what role that they played. It bothers me that I am not able to remember my dreams – the images that my subconscious creates while I am in my most vulnerable state, but I suppose that its something that I just have to ignore. People can't remember every single dream, I know that. But it's just that for once, I have wanted to remember what I have dreamt about. What it all meant. My brother would say that I just am lacking in imagination – that my dreams aren't important and that I shouldn't let something like that get to me. But I can't help but let it bother me. I seems as though my dreams started to become less clear, more indefinable, as I grew older.

And honestly, I really hate getting older.

I was shaken awake by Kagome, surprised to find her dressed and ready – in some of my clothes – but at her questioning glance I merely smiled, giving her a small nod of appreciation. And I shouldn't have minded, because after all, she was just wearing some of my more casual clothes – which I haven't worn since half of my wardrobe started turning beige.

Sleepily, I made my way around my bedroom, as Kagome set to making my bed, for whatever the reason I have absolutely _no_ idea. But you know, I wasn't going to stop her. It did give me a chance to be lazy – which I haven't been in a while, and after going through my normal morning routine, I saw that I had a couple of time left before we headed out to work. To meet Inuyasha. 

_Again._

Unfortunate, isn't it?

"Sango?"

I glanced up at her from my seat on the couch, munching on an energy bar, and nodded, showing that I was listening to the girl as I flipped through channels on the TV.

"Well, you see, before we go into work, I was wondering if we could make a tiny stop."

"Sure," I said between bites, "where to?"

Kagome fidgeted for a brief second, tugging the hem of her skirt.

"City Hall?"

City Hall? Oh no, no, no. Definitely _not._

"Kagome," I said calmly, sitting up straight, "City Hall is on the other side of _town_. You know, as in the _opposite_ direction of the firm."

"I know," she sighed, flopping down into my recliner, "but we really need to go there."

"I'll be late," I answered automatically, somewhat angry at the fact that she hadn't told me earlier, as soon as I had finished getting dressed.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "but if you're worried about getting fired I can say that Inuyasha really values your company, so he wont fire you!"

I simply raised an eyebrow, knowing that the girl was completely correct. After all, I had been late before, and all Inuyasha did was give me a warning glare before telling me to list off his appointments for the day and isolating himself in his office.

Which he did fairly often, I might add.

So I know that most likely, by the time I arrived at the office, he would be sitting in his office, isolating himself from the outside world. 

"Fine," I mumbled, turning off the television with a dejected sigh, "where at City Hall?"

"The Hall of Records," she answered simply. And I couldn't help but glance at her curiously, hoping that she would further elaborate. 

But she didn't.

All she managed to do was give me a small smile before moving over to the door, slipping her shoes on along the way. Sighing, I stood up and walked over to the door, stuffing the last of my energy bar into my mouth.

Whatever the girl had planned, I just hoped it was good.

Good enough to let Inuyasha help her, because he needed that help.

More than anything.

*

*

*

_Certification of Death._

_Higurashi Kagome._

_1981-1997_

That girl was truly a _genius_.

And Inuyasha knew it too.

Which was why he was currently staring at the document in front of him, his expression a mixture of disbelief, anger, shock, and scorn. Not to mention, I could tell that he was impressed.

A lot.

Which most people didn't manage to do. 

So, in turn, I was surprised with her.

And I couldn't help but wonder exactly how long it took for the girl to think of showing him her death certificate. 

Glancing back at her, I could see the triumph shining in her eyes – I took note of the happiness radiating from her as she bounced on her feet, waiting to hear what Inuyasha had to say. And moments after moments after moments passed before Inuyasha finally looked up, his eyes automatically zeroing in on her.

"I thought," he growled as he pulled his ashtray closer to him, "that I said I didn't want to see you again."

I gave him a pointed look in response, knowing that it was just his way of pushing people away. Of running away from what was really true and what wasn't.

"No," she said – still smiling, "you said, and I quote _'stay the fuck away from me'_. And, I would, only I can't. So – erm – now that you have _proof_ that I am in fact dead and an Angel, will you let me help you?"

I couldn't help but giggle at the impression of Inuyasha she did – at the way her voice went low and gruff, but still managed to hold an arrogant angry tone to it. Just the way Inuyasha talked, only, she was slightly more feminine.

"No," Inuyasha said, crossing his arms over his chest, "you can't help me, because I don't have anything that I need help with."

Kagome frowned, and I just glared at him, knowing good and well that he was flat out lying to this girl. Which was unfortunate that she knew it too because she walked across the room and jabbed her finger in his chest, an agitated look on her face.

_"You don't know what I'm feeling, you have no idea what it's like to live day after day like I do, and you sure as hell wouldn't want to._ Sound familiar?" She asked, stepping back as he glared at her.

"Listen woman, you can't prove _anything_ on hearsay, so I suggest you just leave me the fuck alone."

I was sure that I was gaping; surprised at the way he was treating her – almost as though everything that she had just said didn't matter in the least. And a part of me was slightly angered, but another part of me understood where he was coming from. He didn't know this girl, and yet she was bursting into his life, claiming to want to help him. He had lived so long with people ignoring him, acting as though nothing mattered, and he had lived his life hiding that pain – that vulnerability from others. And to show it to someone who was a complete stranger – it would be strange – unlike Inuyasha. It would be as though he were giving his feelings to the world, allowing them to do whatever they wanted to do with them. And his feelings – he treasured those above everything else, and I know that he would rather die than allow anything like that to happen.

But Kagome was determined.

And no matter what, she would not allow Inuyasha to ignore her once again – to cast her aside. She was aiming for something – something that meant a lot to her, and I knew that she would not give up without a fight.

Her temper was proof enough.

"Nhhh! You are so in_furiating!_" She growled, throwing her hands up the air.

"Harassment," Inuyasha mumbled as he sat down in his seat.

"Huh?"

"I can charge you with harassment. You know, get a restraining order while I'm at it."

"You really need to stop being a prick. And you know, smoking," I said as Inuyasha placed a cigarette to his lips.

"I know," he growled out, "otherwise Sesshoumaru will fire me and then I'll be nothing more than a jobless fool whose addicted to nicotine."

"With a master's degree," I joked, but frowned just as Inuyasha frowned.

"Joy."

He then took the moment to light a cigarette; completely ignoring the murderous look that Kagome sent his way. But before Inuyasha was even able to take a single drag of his cigarette – to have the taste of tobacco on his tongue and feel the nicotine seeping into his system – the cigarette was _gone._

And Kagome was _glowing._

I mean really, the whole strange iridescent blue light was surrounding her, making her look like some godly figure. I'm not sure how long I was staring, watching as her hair suddenly whipped around her face – as her young innocent eyes were suddenly screwed shut, one of her hands clenched tightly – but I knew that my eyes had to be the size of saucers. Because never in my _life_ have I ever come across something as weird as this. 

And only one thought was running through my mind as I watched her, unable to string together a coherent sentence.

Kagome truly was an Angel. 

Well, either that, or she's the devil in disguise. Which wouldn't be too bad for Inuyasha seeing as to how he has the tendency to act like Satan reincarnated at times.

But still, Kagome was glowing, and she was an Angel. 

And Inuyasha had his concrete proof that he couldn't get rid of her – that she was there to help him and only him. 

And as her glow died down, as she opened her eyes and looked directly into Inuyasha's, I think he knew that too.

But I also knew that he was afraid.

"You," Kagome started quietly, her eyes widening slightly as she saw her skin turn from blue to ivory, " you wished for it to go away."

"Excuse me?"

Well, I'm glad that Inuyasha was able to get over his initial shock.

"You wished that you weren't smoking that cigarette because it was suddenly… bitter? Whatever, " she said with a careless shrug, "you wished for it inside your head and I gave you that wish."

Inuyasha simply responded by pulling out another cigarette.

Kagome glared.

And I – I let out a tiny giggle, trying to find any strings of coherent thoughts within my mind.

"Nhhh," I started, " so you took away his cigarette because it would make him happy?"

"Um, well yeah," Kagome fidgeted, glancing towards the door.

"Start small, I guess," I replied with a shrug of my shoulders before looking towards Inuyasha, giving him a curious look. 

He merely growled, and it only added to my amusement.

"I'm still going to slap you with a restraining order," he mumbled, giving Kagome an icy glare.

"I'm dead," she deadpanned, and I was overcome with the urge to burst out laughing. But I didn't, knowing that Inuyasha would just glare at me, and then direct the patented glare that could freeze fire towards me. Which was something that I didn't want to do since I valued my life and didn't want to be sacrificed to the wolves.

"Then burn in fucking hell," Inuyasha retorted, smirking in triumph as all the color drained from her face, leaving her pale and infuriated.

 "You _jerk! _Do you always act like this?" Kagome snapped at Inuyasha, her hands clenched into fists on her hips. Inuyasha merely glared at her, before kicking his feet up on his desk, and slowly lighting his cigarette. I felt more than saw the sour look that suddenly spread all over Kagome's face as Inuyasha did that, and for the briefest moment, I was ready to tell Inuyasha that he needed to put it out, lest his brother came along, but instead, I decided to let him deal with it. If he got into trouble, that was his fault. And even though my job was to do practically everything for him, I would not get him out of trouble if he was caught. I've already warned him enough and if he chooses not to listen to me… well, I'm not his mother, so there really isn't anything I can do in that department.

But Inuyasha just watched Kagome, a smug smirk forming across his lips as her look went from sour, to angry, to disbelieving, and then to exasperated in all under three seconds. 

"Well – just – ugh. Sango," I looked at her, doing my best to hide my amusement at the situation, but judging by the way her eyes narrowed I must not have been doing a very good job, " does _he_," she jerked her head in Inuyasha's direction, " always act like an arrogant jerk?"

"Unfortunately, Inuyasha permanently has his head stuck up his ass, so to speak."

"No wonder," she replied, sitting down in the seat in front of his desk, "must be uncomfortable."

And Inuyasha just responded by taking a long drag of his cigarette, his eyes metaphorically burning holes into Kagome's head. And I was caught between amusement and surprise, because normally, Inuyasha would have slit her jugular in six different places already for invading his space. After all, when he was angry with people he let them know, in less than kind terms. But instead, he allowed this girl to sit in his office – he allowed her to invade his space, and for once, he hadn't yelled at her. He just sat quietly, smoking his cigarette, and listen to us talk about him as though he wasn't there.

"Well," I started slowly as I sat down next to her, "I'm sure he's gotten used to it, with all the ordeals he's gone through. Only way to stop the hurt, you know?"

And I knew, that as soon as that left my mouth, Inuyasha was ready to skin me alive. And, judging by the way Kagome looked from me to Inuyasha wide-eyed, Inuyasha was _pissed._ And I was in trouble. But for the briefest moment, I didn't really care that I had let her know. Even though I knew Inuyasha was going to be completely difficult with her – even though I knew he was going to stay closed off and refuse to open up – she was his Angel, and she had every right to know what was going on. How she could help. And any help that I could give her – well it brought her one step closer to helping Inuyasha. And helping Inuyasha meant that I wouldn't have to see the pain that triggered my own haunting memories anymore. It would mean that I wouldn't have to hide behind a mask, because there would be nothing that triggered the pain that I felt any longer. And if helping her was the only to accomplish that – well then so be it.

But after that moment, I knew that I was just being selfish. I should have been doing it because he was my friend, not because I wanted to forget. I should have been helping him because he needed it – he needed to know that there were people out there that cared for him and would do anything to help him out. For his sake, and not for personal gain. And, truthfully, if I were being realistic, then I would know that just because someone else stops hurting, it doesn't mean that I would stop hurting. Because I know that there will always be something else there – something else that will remind me of what it is that I lost so long ago. 

Life doesn't work that way, and I know that I will have to remind myself about that every single day.

  
That is, if I manage to escape the room alive. Because Inuyasha truly isn't happy with me. 

At all.

"I'm going to fucking kill you," Inuyasha growled, dabbing his cigarette out in the ashtray. And for a second, I surprised that he would say that to me, but then I remembered that he was – angry? livid? mad? – but all of those seemed like understatements in my mind. I mean, just sitting there, I could picture Inuyasha dumping my body in a river after he snapped my neck. And, I could picture him trying to snap Kagome's neck, only – she's already dead, so its not like it would make much of a difference anyways. 

"Well then, we might want to move into the hallway," I said, the guilt already causing my chest to clench, "we wouldn't want my blood to stain the carpet. Or you know, we could wait until it rains and deal with it then?"

Inuyasha froze. 

And Kagome – Kagome just looked back and forth between us, her eyes completely wide. 

At this point, I couldn't even guess what was running through Inuyasha's mind, but just looking at his beautiful amber eyes, I could see the fear shimmering in them. Fear at what had been said – fear at his memories. But I could see his hate too. His hate for me. His hate for everyone. Because he hated everyone – he hated them all for not being able to understand. He hated them all for not _trying_ to understand. But I do. Every single day, I try to understand what it is he's going through, but I know that it's nothing like what I had been forced to go through. It was worse. And I see this by simply looking in his eyes.

But every time I do, I can't stop the pain. I can't stop the responsibility. I can't stop blaming myself. And it makes me want to hate myself – it makes me want to cry. And I know, that among the people Inuyasha hates, I'm one of them. Just as he hates Miroku. His mother – his father – his brother. He hates them all, and it's sad because no one ever does anything to try to help him. 

Except for Kagome.

And even though I have tried to understand him, I know that it doesn't help him any, cause it reminds him of what happened. Everything reminds him of what happened. Everything is always making him hate the world – the people that are supposed to mean the world to him. And it makes me feel sorry for him, regardless of how much I hate feeling pity for him. But pity is the only thing I can feel for him at this point, even if it isn't what he needs. Because I know that he needs something else, even if I don't know what that something is. Even if he doesn't know what that something is, he knows he needs it as well. Unfortunately, I doubt that he knows where to find it. 

"You know."

I glanced at Kagome, startled out of my thoughts, to see her staring at me with a look somewhere between anger and sadness. Her voice was soft and low, and for a moment, I could have sworn she sounded slightly embarrassed – as though she had overheard something that wasn't meant for her ears.

"I know?" 

"Yeah," she answered, "you know what he went through. You're able to see things that others aren't. You can see his pain."

"I'm not feeling any fucking pain. _Nothing_ happened to me," Inuyasha growled out between clenched teeth, his fists clenched together tightly, his knuckles white. He was trembling slightly, most likely to control his anger, but I could tell it was from something else. Something in his eyes – he looked slightly surprised, afraid almost, but most of all exhausted. And all of it was manifesting into anger – making him lose his temper.

"You're a bad liar," Kagome shot back, her voice rising slightly, "something did happen to you."

"What the hell makes you think that?" Inuyasha asked, his voice suddenly quiet and low, "what the hell makes you think you know a single god damned thing about my fucking life?"

"I know what I saw," Kagome replied, her shoulders squared and her eyes straight ahead – locked on Inuyasha's, "and I know what I heard. And I know that the Entity would not send me down here unless something happened."

"Well the Entity made a mistake. Nothing happened, and I don't need your fucking help!"

"Then why did you cry?!"

And the room went silent.

And it was almost deafening – listening to the silence ringing in my ears, watching as Inuyasha stared at Kagome, and Kagome at Inuyasha, neither of them speaking, but thousands of thoughts running across their minds, as I knew there would be. It was just too much to know that a young girl would be able to contradict him – that a girl would be able to trap him like she did – and I think Inuyasha knew that. But I also think that it was a large blow to his pride – it broke off a piece of his self-esteem, and I think that Kagome knew that too. Which was probably why she turned and walked to the door, a sad smile playing on her lips. 

She froze for a second, turning back to face Inuyasha, her smile still sad. But when she turned around, I could see the triumph in her eyes – and happiness was radiating from her – along with the sorrow – despite how serious the situation was. 

And in that moment, I could see, Inuyasha and I weren't the only people who hide behind a mask.

"Actions speak louder than words Inuyasha," Kagome whispered quietly, before turning on her heel and disappearing through the door.

I don't exactly know how long Inuyasha and I both stood there, looking at the doorway, her words resonating within our minds. But I do know that it must have struck something in Inuyasha, because he sat down and looked at me – long and hard – he just stared, his eyes showing his exhaustion. And then, he reached inside his breast pocket for his cigarettes and his lighter, his eyes still locked onto mine.

"Sango," Inuyasha said as placed the cigarette between his lips with one hand, clicking the lighter off and on with the other.

"Yeah?" I asked, oddly somber as I reached forward to grab Kagome's death certificate off his desk.

"Fuck you."

I think I managed to smile, getting his message clearly.  '_Give me a minute'._ And so I did. I leaned back in my chair, giving him a brief smile, waiting to see whatever it was he needed to situate. But he just nodded to me, leaning back in his seat, his eyes glued to the ceiling as he stopped playing with his lighter. His cigarette hung limply from his lips, unlit, and everything got quiet. 

Five minutes passed, and we both just sat there in the silence; I was waiting for whatever it was he had to say, and he was clearing his mind –organizing every single incoherent thought. But then, his cigarette fell from his lips and into his lap, and he blinked once and then twice, before he turned to look at me – his arrogant mask in place.

"I'm leaving," he replied, placing the cigarette next to his lighter, "cancel all my appointments."

"Inuyasha?" I barely managed to get out before he was at the door, opening it quickly. He paused, turned to look at me, his eyebrow raised in question.

"Yes?"

"I don't have the slightest clue what to tell you clients where you are going."

"Out," he said tartly, before he was gone, the door slamming closed behind him.

And I _know_ that I got that message clearly.

_Kagome._

He was going to find Kagome.

And only one thing managed to go through my mind as I sat there, staring at the door calmly.

That girl was _good._


	6. Chapter Five

_"Life consists not in holding good cards but in playing those you hold well."_ **- Josh Billings **

* * *

_**Divine Aspiration**_

**_Chapter Five_**

* * *

"I'm sorry," she told him, holding onto him tightly, tears streaming from her eyes.

But he didn't hear her. All he could hear was the own beating of his heart, slow, steady, and he needed so desperately to be away from her. He felt dirty, disgusting, and he wanted to scrub the feeling away from his skin - he wanted to be able to soak until his skin was red, until his mind was clean, but she had to let him go. She was holding on, far too tightly, and he needed the escape, wanted it.

"I'm so _sorry_," she whispered again, and he could feel the bitterness welling up inside of him, could feel it giving way to a bitter hate. He could feel his hands curling into fists, he could see red, he could smell her perfume, taste the bile in his throat, and he wanted to choke on it.

He hated her, more than anything.

Because she hadn't been there, and she hadn't helped him, and she was pretending to be _sorry._

But that thick disgusting stench was on his skin, the smell of alcohol was still mingling on his breath and the thought caused tears to come to his eyes, to remember the way that they had forced him into the recesses of his mind, just so they could taste a child who was slowly fading into nothing.

He hated them too, but they didn't matter. Because all he had left was himself, and no one else. He didn't _need_ anyone else. He was perfectly capable of dealing with everything on his own. After all, he had come back alive, hadn't he? His pride had been torn to shreds, his healing heart had been stepped on, and there was blood and there were bruises, but he was still alive, and it was all that mattered because he had relied on himself.

He didn't need anyone, and if anyone tried to help, he would just let them know how much he truly hated them.

He hated them _all._

"Let me go," he growled, pushing away from her, walking away.

There were tears, sliding slowly down her face, but he ignored them, because his pain was so much _more_ than hers was and she had no _right_ to feel sorry for him.

"But-"

"I fucking hate you. Stay the hell away from me."

The door slammed in her face, echoing through the silence, and she fell to the floor, clutching her sides, and cried. She wished she could have been there for him, but she had been to late, and he had slipped from her fingers. She didn't know what to do, she didn't know what to think.

But, for a second, she wished that he could have had the strength to hold on. If only for a little bit longer.

* * *

_(Kagome POV)_

The street was crowded with people when I finally managed to make it out of that stuffy building. It threw me off for a second; I could feel my heart to race as people pushed passed me, feeling their body heat slowly begin to merge with mine, and it frightened me. I had forgotten what it was like to be just another face in the crowd, what it was like to be pushed up against other people again like I was actually _real_ and not just trapped within a figment of my own dream.

I used to dream a lot, when I was sitting on my wooden swing in the Heavens, waiting to swing high enough, to finally be able to jump off, to land on solid ground, and it was just so strange knowing that now, I was being given the opportunity to do so. My dreams were sad then, a deep longing nostalgia that I couldn't help but want to go away, despite how the happiness was always welling inside of me. Now, it seemed like I was trapped within one of those dreams, sitting and waiting to be pulled away, to be teased and taunted and for someone to say "_It wasn't real_," and to feel the pain of realizing that it actually _wasn't._

But I wasn't pulled out of the dream, and I was still standing there, in the middle of the sidewalk, slightly frightened and vulnerable, feeling people move around me. Feeling people breathe on me. Feeling the small thuds of life in my chest. My body quivered, shook, and I realized, with a sharp resounding slap to the face that it _was_ real and that I was here, on Earth, once again, and living. It was strange, it was weird, and I think I lost myself in that moment. Because I could feel the tears in my eyes once again, and my body was trembling fiercely.

A woman had walked up to me, patted my shoulder, and asked if I was all right.

The touch left my body tingling, shocked, and I could only nod, before turning around and walking back towards the entrance to the firm, needing to get away from the people, from the sounds and the sun and the _life._

I was in a body, and my heart was beating and my lungs were being filled with air but I wasn't really _alive._

It was all fake, a pretense, and even though I had been so completely estatic hours ago about being alive, about being able to breathe and see and touch and feel something else aside from happiness, I could feel my energy draining, only to be replaced my deep welling sadness that cut through all of my defenses.

I was truly an idiot.

I had allowed myself to fall into the dream of being real; I had allowed myself to actually believe that I was _real_ and - and I could feel a sharp pain shoot up my legs as my knees connected with the ground, the tears spilling slowly down my face.

I'm not real. I'm not real. I'm not _real_.

It was like a mantra in my head, and it hurt, more than anything I had ever felt before. It hurt even more than not being able to see my family, because I had known that I was dead, but I hadn't really known that I was _dead_ and now... now it was just so hard to breathe I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

I had been sent here, back to Earth, back to the land of the living, to help someone _continue_ living, to keep them from completely dying, emotionally, and yet, I was dead myself. How did they actually expect me to do this? How could they have put such a huge burden on a _child_, one who had yet to even experience her first _crush_? I knew nothing about emotions; I knew nothing about what was able to make people happy, and yet they threw me down here anyways, expecting me to be able to make a difference in life. But how was I supposed to do that when he didn't even want me near him?

Inuyasha had his pain, but so did everyone else.

Sango had pain, probably just as harsh and as deep as Inuyasha's, so what really made Inuyasha special? I had pain, I was feeling it at that moment, but they never sent anyone to help _me_, so why was I supposed to help him?

I could feel a soft, gentle fog settle over my mind, blinding me, and my doubts intensified, and it frightened me. Because I wasn't real, I had no direction, and Inuyasha was just like everyone else. Everyone else felt pain, felt despair, and it made Inuyasha seem so insignificant that I began to feel bitterness rising within me. Bitterness at having been forced to help him. Bitterness at living a false, pathetic life.

I was _dead_. I was dead and -

"It's not _real_," I whispered aloud, placing my head in my hands, "_I'm _not real. I'm just a stupid, naive child. What do you expect me to do!"

"You can start by stop being a fucking baby."

I froze, tears sliding down my face, and I looked up, at Inuyasha, and I could feel the anger welling up inside me. I stood, almost at once, and all that was running through my head was _big selfish arrogant jerk_ and my finger was stabbing him in the chest as looked down at me, his eyes dark and intense.

"Why should you even _matter?_ There are other people who have been hurt, there are other people who cry themselves to sleep at night and yet they sent me to help you? What about everyone else, what's being done about _them_? You're nothing more than a big selfish stuck-up jerk and I hate you!"

There was silence, and it hurt.

Because he was watching me, and his face was blank, but my heart was pounding in my chest because _I had never said that before._

_I hate you._

It was like a shock to my system, hearing those words come out of my mouth, and when it finally registered what I had done, I recoiled, my eyes wide as I clutched my hands over my mouth. I was disgusted. With the way things were. With myself. And I think he saw it too, because he took a step towards me, slowly tilted his head to the side, and watched me.

I had never said those words to anyone in my life. I couldn't believe that I had done it now. They were just so dark, so depressing, and it caused my heart to ache, my chest to clench, and my mouth to dry when I realized that I had. My mother had told me once, that in order to hate, you needed to learn how to love. She had also told me that I had no right to hate anyone unless they had done some kind of wrong to me, one that would hurt me deeply, but even then, it wasn't all right. I had been six then, I remember, and I had gotten into trouble for getting into a fight with Souta and telling him that I hated him. He had cried and cried and cried and begged for my forgiveness, clinging incessantly to my leg, and finally I had snapped and yelled that I hated looking at his stupid face over and over again. My mother had heard, had come into the living room and immediately seperated us, asking to know what had happened.

_I hate being around him! He's so annoying!_ I yelled and crossed my arms over my chest and pretended to pout. And I would have gone on pouting too. But my mother slapped me with such an incredibly scary look that my shoulders just slumped, and I was the one who was apologizing to both my mother and Souta. Repeatedly.

I knew that this would be like that time. Inuyasha would say something cold and cutting, my eyes would fill with tears and I would submit to him. I would apologize, without looking at him, feeling ashamed and then he would feel superior. Like he had won. And then, if it happened again, he knew that he would only need to anger me enough to yell those three hurtful words at him, and I would remember my mother, remember the displeased look on her face, and instantly submit, feeling wrong.

I didn't want that to happen.

Despite not being truly alive, despite it only being momentary, I really did want to help him; I really did want to see him happy.

But there were still others out there, others who needed help, and my heart was crying out for them. For all of them. And it was then, in that moment, that I was wishing that I had never decided to go over and visit Sango. I was wishing that I never had to see her cry, to see her feel broken and insignificant, the way that I had pictured Inuyasha only a few moments ago.

Because when I had come here, I had only wanted to help him; I had only wanted to earn my wings. But now - _now_ I wanted to hug the world and let it know that it was all right to cry. Now, I wanted to kiss all of its tears away and tell it that it was being watched over, that it could trust me, and that hurt more than anything.

I wouldn't be able to help them all, that I knew. But I wanted to so desperately, to the point of exploding, and I felt my heart begin to crumble.

I didn't really hate him. I don't think I ever could. He has such sad eyes, and it pains me to look at him, but I did, and my hand was falling away from my mouth, my shoulders were slumping, and I was staring at the ground, tears clouding my vision.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, hugging myself tightly, "I - I shouldn't have said that. It was wrong."

"Feh," Inuyasha said absently, his eyes becoming less intense, less dark, "Stupid bitches tell me that all the time."

_What?_

"Just - what - how - gah! You arrogant jerk!" I huffed, stomping my foot childishly and placing my fists on my hips, " You've got some nerve calling me that."

Inuyasha shrugged.

"Yeah, and you've got nerve stomping into my life like the annoying woman you are, but that hasn't stopped you now has it?"

The question stopped me, made me think, and I mean _seriously_ think of what he really meant, and once again, I was feeling sorry. But then, the fact that he was even down there with me, talking civily - well, as civil as he would get - made that small spark of triumph light up my face, and I smiled, left over tears sliding down my face.

I was glad that he had followed me. I was glad that he had come down here, to take me seriously, to - however much it hurt his pride - come down and ask for my help, even if he wasn't truly _asking_ for my help. I felt really stupid for not realizing it before, I mean, he had only come down and insulted me... probably his way of saying hi to everyone he came across, silently saying that it was all right that I was there to help him. He needed it. He wanted the pain to go away. And that was as submissive as he was probably going to get, but it didn't matter because he was letting me in, and I would be able to help him.

And, as soon as I helped him, as soon as I earned my wings, I could kiss the world, and mend it's shattered heart once again.

"Well you need help. Seriously. And, you could, you know, start by smiling. Or by being nice. I think smiling and being nice is a good start. So will you? Could you? Smile for me I mean."

"Fuck no."

"Oh, well... okay. Shoot."

Inuyasha looked at me incredulously, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket, and quickly lit it. There was a scowl on his face when he lit it, and he took a long drag, looked at me again, and blew the smoke in my face.

My lungs felt like they were contracting, like all my tiny air sacks were being ripped out of my lungs and I could feel myself actually beginning to _choke_ - which was funny since I was basically just choking on _air._ But - but it was disgusting and it smelled funny, and when I think of it, it wasn't really air to begin with, more like floating particles that were being blown out of Inuyasha's mouth and... gross.

I was hacking and coughing, and I could feel my lungs practically in my _throat_ and the imagery I got from that wasn't too pretty either.

"Gods, that - that _stinks_!" I shrieked, stealing the cigarette from Inuyasha and crushing it beneath the pair of heels that Sango had let me borrow. I was too far gone, with the images of having to breathe on life support for the rest of my life in my mind, or having a hole in my throat that I would have to breathe through, to actually think of how stupid I was being.

"You stupid bitch!" Inuyasha growled, tugging me towards him by the wrist, "you just burnt the fucking carpet! How stupid _are you_?" He yelled before pushing me away and staring down at the burnt carpet with a look of trepidation in his eyes.

Or rather, he was just really really _pissed off._

"Erm, I - maybe... uh, sorry?" I offered, and he turned towards me, his eye twitching ever so slightly.

"Sorry?" He asked his voice quiet, deadly. "I have to pay for that you know. My brother is going to have me fucked so far up the ass it's not even funny."

"Um, ew?" I cringed, trying my best to erase that visual from my mind. "But, hey, at least its not noticeable."

"I'm going to kill you." Inuyasha said, turning to me.

I laughed nervously.

"You know, you really shouldn't. I mean, just think of how detrimental I am to your health and everything." His eye twitched again. "Not that you aren't healthy I mean, but really, psychologically you are..." I froze then, noticing the way his body just seemed to go rigid, like an ironing board, and again I was laughing nervously, waving my hands around wildly, "I mean, with the way you smoke -" He took a menacing step towards me, "you shouldn't even be smoking in the first place!"

That seemed to freeze him, and he stood up straight, straightened the jacket so his suit, and scowled. And, for a second, I think that he really, truly wanted to maim me but... I grinned suddenly, feeling that sharp stab of pain fade away.

"You wouldn't have been able to kill me anyways," I said, smiling happily, knowing that I was pushing it, "I'm immortal."

"Do you need to breathe? Does your heart beat? Do you bleed when you're cut?"

"Yeah," I answered, watching as the wheels turned quickly in his head. And for that, I was truly afraid.

"Then you aren't immortal. Fucking Angels, thinking they know everything," Inuyasha grumbled, taking me roughly by the arm again, and leading me up into the building.

The ride in the elevator was quiet and tense, and I think the comment I made on Inuyasha's psychological health was still on his mind. When I had ridden in the elevator with Sango, it had been different, more cheerful, even though, I had told her, even then, that I would help her if she needed it, because she had helped me. She looked at me, for a second, the sadness welling up inside of her, but then she, too, pretended like she didn't know what I was talking about. She went back to hiding behind a mask.

And, to be completely honest, it baffled me. Inuyasha surrounded himself with so many mysterious people, even though I had only met two of his colleagues, they were still mysterious, but oh so very human. I had seen two people brought to tears in my presence, forced back into that black hole that they attempted to cover up by pretending that they actually had lives.

They buried themselves in their work, by being around people who were in just as much pain as they, themselves, were, and it bothered me slightly. I could see the connection between Inuyasha and Sango - they recognized each other's pain, reveled in it. Because, at least then, it was all right to be hurt, to be unhappy, because the other people around them were unhappy as well. It allowed them to be selfish, the way I had been selfish, and it justified their cold behavior. It was pitiful, slightly, but it was more sorrowful than anything else. I didn't want it to be that way, I wanted it to go away, and now, that I had seen Inuyasha more relaxed, even though he was fretting about something insignificant, he was still being himself; he had shed a tiny layer only to build more against me, so that I couldn't go any deeper.

It was going to be difficult.

But I was ready for it.

Sango and Inuyasha, I could understand. That was clear.

It was Miroku I didn't get. There wasn't any darkness in his eyes, there wasn't any sadness in his being. He understood Inuyasha, to some extent from what I was able to gather, and it was because of that that Inuyasha allowed him to stay around. I had heard their voices, through the door, had heard Miroku say Inuyasha's name over and over again, attempting to comfort him, but that was all he said. He didn't tell him it was all right, and he didn't tell him that it would get better. He just said his name, as though he were reminding him of who he was, of who he was playing, and that was it.

I didn't get it.

Miroku didn't seem to need happiness, or help. It was as though he were already happy, but I couldn't understand _why_. There had to be something, anything, that he was keeping from me, or that he had blocked, although I dont think I could understand _how_ he could block those thoughts from me, but Inuyasha had done the same to me as well. I didn't know what it was that he needed to be happy, but as soon as I shook his hand, I felt the pain, strong and bright, but when I had taken Miroku's he was... he was _blank._

That confused me more than anything.

I sighed, listened to the beep of the elevator doors as they slid open, and walked out, into the sea of secretaries, desks, and lawyers. It was a jumbled mess, like my emotions, when I entered back into that world of hustling and bustling. I half expected to break down again, but I felt Inuyasha's hand suddenly push me forward, away from the people, and I could hear him mumbling under his breath, cursing everyone and anyone who managed to look his way.

I saw a few girls stare at me, in shock, although why, I didn't know, before I was being led down a hall, and into Inuyasha's office once again.

Sango was there, sitting on his desk, a notebook opened in her lap, the phone attached to her ear, and she scribbled down little notes, her legs crossed neatly. She looked like the epitome of elegance, in her skirt and blazer, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, and it surprised me how beautiful one person could look, especially if they were only sitting on a desk, in a suit. It was surprising.

She looked up when we walked in, and she gave us both a small smile. Almost at once, she told the person she was speaking to that her boss would get in touch with her as soon as possible before hanging up the phone.

"Welcome back," Sango said, slipping off the desk, " I canceled all your appointments. Your brother called, and he didn't sound happy, but he said that he was coming to see you. Miroku called, and he said that he was going to be here shortly, and your client, Stacy DeNato called, and she just wanted to thank you for being so kind and bailing her out."

"Five thousand fucking dollars," Inuyasha grumbled, sitting down in his desk, sulking.

"Yes, well, you could have always told her _no_. I mean, assualt with a deadly weapon, against a _police officer_ no less... I would have let her rot."

Inuyasha snorted. "She was drunk off her ass. The officer was off duty. It doesn't matter."

Sango rolled her eyes. "I still wouldn't have given her any sympathy. I mean, she's nothing more than a gold-digger. I've see the way she bats her eyes at you, hoping to get a piece of... whatever it is you've got. Her last husband was a tycoon, and yet, when he died, he left her nothing. And now, she's suing his family and his children for fifty percent of her husbands estate, including what he gave to his children. And for what? Emotional distress? How the hell did that woman suffer from emotional distress? She didn't even cry at his damned funeral."

"She's pregnant with his unborn child and she has no way to support him. Her. It. Whatever. It doesn't fucking matter Sango." Inuyasha said, leaning back in his chair. "The bitch is out of her fucking mind. Where's that bastard anyway?"

"Well, he called around ten minutes ago, after you ran after Kagome - " Inuyasha choked, glaring daggers at Sango, "and he was already on the subway. So I should say he'll be here in about... oh thirty seconds, give or take a few. That is, if the pervert decides to harrass some innocent female on the way in here. Then, I would say about a minute."

I blinked, feeling completely and utterly annoyed at being left out of the fray, but I decided to stay quiet, hoping that I could find some sign of - of _something_ in the words that they were saying. Something that could help me.

And it walked in five seconds later.

"Inuyasha, _Sango._"

The way Miroku said Sango's name made me blush to the roots of my hair, and Inuyasha rolled his eyes, hearing that same lusty tone that I had heard. Sango looked at him, blankly, before her eyes zeroed in on the bento boxes in his hands, and snatched one from him.

"Thank you Miroku."

"You're very welcome, Sango."

His voice was slightly clipped, and I could tell that he was already annoyed, but he slowly walked over to Inuyasha's desk, and set one down there as well. Inuyasha looked at it disinterestedly, before leaning back in his chair, and his eyes roving around the room once again. Miroku turned, moved to sit in the chair next to Sango, and froze, his eyes landing on me.

"Hi," I waved, feeling slightly uncomfortable under his scrutiny. He watched me, very closely, his eyes going dark, his lips turning down into a frown. I knew he had been surprised to see me, but his sudden rigid reaction to my presence made me feel unwanted, it caused my heart to clench, and warning bells went off in my head.

Something was definitely _wrong._

"Were you just on your way out Miss Higurashi?" Miroku asked, breaking the silence. Both Sango and Inuyahsa looked up from their food, a riceball halfway to Sango's mouth, her eyes wide in surprise. Inuyasha was merely blinking, his eyes narrowing slightly, and went to move, but saw the way Sango shook her head, telling him no.

She could see it, the way that I saw it, the way I _heard_ it. The warning in his voice. It made it hard for me to breathe. He didn't want me there, he didn't want to see me, and yet I was there, dressed in Sango's clothes, attempting and pretending to be professional, but feeling oh so very weak and scared. And I could understand the way Miroku was feeling, how he needed to be the protector of his friends, friends who, he probably knew, were feeling immense pain. And the way that I had crashed in on them last night, the way I had made Inuyasha break down and cry for simply being _around _him... I would be mad at myself as well.

And that was when I saw Miroku's pain, that was when I felt it.

His pain, came in the form of Inuyasha. It came in the form of Sango. He probably felt some himself, I didn't really know, but his need to want to protect them was there, and the helplessness of not being able to protect them made him feel useless, pathetic. I could understand it. I could see. But it was confusing at the same time. And, despite it all, I wanted to help him as well.

"No," I said standing, a small smile on my face, "As a matter of fact, I was just on my way _in_."

"Ah," Miroku said, setting his lunch on Inuyasha's desk and taking a step towards me, "then let me warn you," he whispered to me, "do not make any mistakes, otherwise, you'll be out, whether you want to or not."

The threat was there, and very clear, and I understood it almost at once.

It was like a tiny beast had just come into my head, and started laughing and dancing around and yelling over and over again "_Losers don't get wings, loser! Na na!_"

It was scary, and I was frightened, but then Sango was cuffing Miroku over the head, glaring at him angrily, knowing that he had just spent his time whispering a threat into my ear. But, as soon as it had happened, Miroku's entire disposition changed, and he was looking at her pitifully, as though he had done absolutely nothing wrong. The abrupt change in attitude shocked me, but after a second, I was laughing, and everyone was looking at me as though I were crazy.

But my journey was going to be crazy, and there was going to be lots of ups and downs, and I was expecting it. But it started now, in this very moment, when everyone accepted me for what I was, and despite it being scary and frightening, I knew that I could do it. I knew that I had to do it. Because all of them were hurting, from one thing and another, and I had been sent there to help them, to let them heal, even if it meant that I wouldn't be able to.

It hurt, to even think that, but as soon as it was over, I would have my wings, and I would be able to go back and forth between the world of the living and the world of the dead, and finally, I would be able to watch over my family, and let them know that I loved them. Finally, I would be able to be happy, on my own, without people needing to force the emotion into my mind and make believe that it was real. I was looking forward to that happiness, more than anything, and I couldn't wait to get the ball rolling.

I looked at them all, eating, and watching me, believing that I was actually _insane_, and I smiled. It was going to be hard, but I was looking forward to it. I was determined, and I could handle it.

"So," I started, breaking the silence, "when can I move in?"

Miroku choked on a riceball.


	7. Chapter Six

**A/N:** I've come to the conclusion that I am only going to write this story from the viewpoints of Sango and Kagome. I tried doing Miroku, and it wasn't working the way I wanted it to. I attempted to tap into Inuyasha's character, once again, but it was hard to get his monologues into character, so I completely scrapped that and decided to just go with Sango and Kagome. Besides, it's easier to relate to women. Seeing as to how I am one. XD

**Warnings: **Alternating POVs

* * *

**Divine Aspiration**

**Chapter Six**

* * *

(_Sango POV_)

She. Was. Crazy.

Over the moon, out of this world, she likes _tapioca pudding _crazy.

And, for some strange reason, I just didn't get it. I mean, how the hell did that heinous idea get into her head? What was it that made her believe that they would actually go for that? That they would just open their arms and take her in like she actually _meant_ something to them? I mean, I had done it; I opened my arms, but I had no intent of them staying open, at least not for a while.

I respected the girl, and I would give her that much. But to propose such an option? I would have been wary too, especially if that was what had been on her mind. I think the others were thinking the same thing as well, because they just stared at her, wide-eyed, and I think Inuyasha was having a hard time attempting to breathe.

In all honesty, it was pretty funny if I thought about it. After all, an angel from the heavens suddenly shows up, a _female_ angel no less, demanding access into their lives, into our lives, and suddenly, when they had just decided to give her a shot, she comes out with _this_.

That. Girl. Is. Crazy.

I couldn't help but feel sorry for them.

But sympathy wasn't what they needed. It was luck, because the way things were looking now, they were definitely going to need it.

* * *

"I can't believe I got dragged into this," I growled, lifting a shopping bag higher onto my arm. Next to me, Kagome smiled, Inuyasha glared, and Miroku mumbled something unintelligent. I really couldn't understand why they had decided to come along, but it was their money they were spending, so I didn't see any problem with it. It was quite funny actually, now that I think about it.

Once Inuyasha and Miroku had gotten over their initial shock, Inuyasha jumped up, demanding to know what the hell she was talking about. Hell, I wanted to know what the hell she had been talking about, but part of me knew that I was just too polite to ask. I had always been that way, staying silent when I needed to use my voice, shrinking back into the crowd. It was funny really, now that I think about it. But, then again, these days, everything is funny, even things that should be sickeningly depressing.

But I try to block that out; I try not to think about it. Otherwise, I'll break down, and I don't really need to see that sympathetic look in her eyes once again; I don't need to see the pity or that aching loneliness reaching out to me, attempting to wrap itself around me just to tell me _its okay._

It was the way her eyes had looked then, the way she seemed so sad, so lost, so unsure. I couldn't really blame her though, because I knew how she must of felt. I should have known, better than anyone. Hell, I did know better than anyone, but I still didn't allow myself to look so vulnerable. So weak. The resentment I had felt for her within that moment hadn't been intentional, but I think I needed it more than anything. After all, she was just an Angel, and she was just there for Inuyasha, and no one else. It wasn't like it was supposed to matter to me, after all. I was..._ am_ a grown woman, and I can handle my own problems.

But it made me wonder about Inuyasha, about his agony. His despair seemed to be so deep, it seemed to be woven so intricately into his being that I didn't know where it started or where it ended. I didn't even know if it _did_ end, and if I did, he probably wouldn't have kept me around for so long.

Inuyasha never did like people seeing him for him.

I think Miroku and I were the only ones who truly knew what he was like, who truly knew who he was, and now, this girl was here, trying to break through that thick thread of unbreakable despair, clawing at him, at his essence, and I knew, without a doubt, that she was going to break him. That simple fact alone caused a bitterness to rise within me; it caused me to want to wrap my fingers around her perfect little neck and hurt her for hurting Inuyasha - for preparing to hurt him.

Helping him was great and everything, but what about after he broke? What about when he would be completely shattered, in pieces so small, even Miroku and I wouldn't be able to find them? What about _then?_ Would she still be around? Would she help us? Would she help _him_? Would she find it in her heart to care about him, if even for a little bit? Or, would his heart and soul be so black that she would be completely repulsed and shy away from him, from his scars?

Those questions kept going through my mind, everytime I thought about her, and it made me sick. Because, even though I knew she was an Angel, there was still a chance that she could hate him, still a chance that she would back away and leave him alone and cold.

I didn't want to see him break.

Because then, as selfish as it sounds, I, too, would break.

Our bond was so disgustingly strong, that we were the only things that held each other together, we were the only ones who relied on one another to hide away those scars, the cracks in the surface of a perfect facade.

I wanted to ask for forgiveness, as soon as she had asked that question, I wanted to get down onto my knees and tell them both that I was sorry for helping her. I, too, wanted to tell her that she needed to get out of our lives, that she needed to back away because we didn't need any help. But my surface was already cracking, my emotions were already flowing from the open wounds, because she just seemed so _happy._

It was a bitter, sickening feeling, rolling around in the pit of my stomach, and in that moment, all I wished for was that someone could smile at me like that. Like the way she smiled at Inuyasha. A smile full of hope. Full of comfort.

It caused my eyes to hurt, looking at that smile, it caused my heart to ache, knowing that it was welcome. I don't think I remember the last time anyone smiled at me, at Miroku, at Inuyasha. There were always people watching us, yes, thinking we were more than we were. And, in fact, we were more. But it was more than they would ever be able to understand.

I sighed then, closing my eyes, and wishing that my hands were free to rub my temples.

It wasn't fair. At least, not in the way I wanted it to be.

But then again, life was never fair, and that was something that I learned long ago. No. Life was more like a never ending maze, filled with traps and dead-ends and hopelessness. It's a pessimisitic way to think, I know, but it's the truth. Sometimes, if you try hard enough, you are rewarded with a path, one that will lead you closer and closer to the end, but in all honesty, I didn't want to reach the end. Not yet.

And, with Kagome here, it felt as though the end were spiraling toward me, ready to suck me into its depths and rip me apart.

One person, one _gesture_, was not supposed to have that kind of impact on anyone.

And yet, she did.

It made me wonder, if only for a little bit, what it would have been like if I had been the one to suffer as greatly as Inuyasha had. It made me wonder if the person who had been sent to me would be filled with as much warmth, energy, and persistence. It made me wonder if I would have made it as easy for them to get into my life, as Inuyasha and Miroku had made it for her to get into our life.

Inuyasha had sputtered, but only for a little bit, and he was cursing and pointing and acting completely not like himself. I had felt myself falling into bitterness, but I managed a smile, falling behind my cracked masks.

"Don't you think that's a little extreme, Kagome?" I asked, a slight strain in my voice. She had looked at me, she had looked at a choking Miroku, and then she smiled, shaking her head.

"Nope," she answered, closing her eyes, "not extreme. I need to be close to him, don't you think? After all, how am I supposed to be able to help him if I'm nowhere near him?"

"Well," Miroku said, his voice shaky from clearing his throat, "I'm sure it would be... more appropiate if you were to stay with Sango for your time here. After all, Ms. Higurashi, if you get too close, you might get hurt."

Miroku was still being cold, the threat was still in his voice, and for a second, I wanted to cuff him again. I had saw the stab of pain in her eyes, the confusion, but she rebounded from it quickly, pretending that it didn't matter.

She could be better, if given the practice, to show that it didn't hurt. I could have helped her, if she needed it, because I know I had the experience. I had been practicing for years, after all. Pretending was something I was good at, something I could relate to. It was easiest and it made my life worth something. Because I was working to get away from that, the way Inuyasha was, the way Miroku was, and it helped us, if only for a little bit, to think of something happier, brighter, less dark.

"Uhm, no, I don't think so," Kagome answered, meeting the challenge in his eyes head on.

"You have more determination than I thought," Miroku replied after a moment of silence, and through it all, I could see Inuyasha twitch, as though annoyed with the fact there was something more being said between the Angel and his best friend.

Truth be told, I was surprised by it as well.

It seemed, by what Kagome told me, that he had been more hospitable towards her when he didn't know who she was. In fact, he had even joked and smiled, even though I knew he had every intention of still turning her away. There was something dark residing under the surface, in Miroku's mind, and it nagged at me to have to think about what it could possibly be, but I did my best to ignore it. Miroku was, after all, an adult, and he was entitled to his secrets, the way Inuyasha and I were entitled to ours.

"Of course I do," Kagome answered, "I'm an Angel after all."

The threat in her voice shocked me into silence.

"Well then," Miroku started, setting his lunch on the edge of Inuyasha's desk, "it's all settled. We do have a spare room that hasn't been used in a while-" I could have sworn the quick look between Inuyasha and Miroku had been dark and angry, "so it'll need to be cleaned out. You'll also need clothes, since you can't wear Sango's. And, since Inuyasha has apparently cancelled his appointments, we can all go right now."

"What!" Inuyasha had yelled, jumping up.

I leaned back in my chair in morbid fascination, nibbling on a cookie.

"You can't just... what the _fuck_ are you thinking, you stupid bastard?"

"Apparently I'm thinking that we need to get Kagome some proper clothing during her stay with us. Unless, of course, you don't mind her borrowing our clothes."

"But you can't just invite her to live with us! You didn't even ask my permission and I fucking live there too!"

Miroku blinked at him, a frown marring his face.

"You have already accepted her, haven't you Inuyasha? You did chase her, after all."

Inuyasha paused, grumbled, and then fell back into his seat, pulling out a cigarette to calm his nerves. I swear, the way he smokes, he'll die before he's twenty-seven.

"I didn't chase after her," Inuyasha growled, lighting his cigarette, "but, anyway, that doesn't matter. How did you find out anyways?"

I had expected him to answer. I mean, I know I hadn't told him, but the simple fact that Kagome was there, in his office, must have been proof enough that Inuyasha didn't want her to completely disappear. Hell, it was plain as day to me that he wanted her there, even if he didn't truly believe in her abilities.

All he wanted was something to hope for, to grab onto, something that could pull him out of the darkness and help him stand on his own two feet, instead of relying on two others to stand for him. But, then again, it was the same for all of us, and it made me feel guilty, even if I didn't want to be.

So we all agreed, or rather, Inuyasha and Miroku agreed, and decided to drag me along with them, just so I could get out of the firm and pretend that there was actually something more to my life. Pretend that I was actually a part of this, the way that they were.

Kagome probably wouldn't see much of me though, seeing as to how I don't frequent their house and they don't stop by to visit mine. It sounds weird, now that I think about it, knowing how close we are, but how distant we are from each other. It's like a neverending pit, dark and harsh and very lonely.

"So," Kagome started, snapping me out of my dazed mood, "what do you think of this print?"

I glanced at her and nodded. It was a cute little dress she had picked out, with big, bright flower prints on it, and pink buttons coming up the front. It suited her, a lot better than my office suits did, and she looked natural. I don't think I could ever had made myself look natural in an outfit like that - I've been wearing a suit for so long, I might as well have been born in it. It's dull though, when I think about it, but its part of me, and there is nothing that I can really do to change that.

Although, at some point, change would be nice; it would make things more exciting... rile life up a bit and... shit. What the hell am I talking about? My life has already _been_ riled up, and by a teenage girl no less.

One that was going to be extremely shocked and traumatized if Miroku didn't stop eying her like some sort of... pervert.

Which, he was.

But, harboring dirty thoughts about a teenager? And an Angel at that? He really needed to go to hell.

He shot me a sharp look, his eyes clouded over, and for a second, I could feel my heart stop, something weak fluttering within my stomach, twisting me, turning me, and my face got hot, my palms sweaty. But then, he looked away, his eyes still dark, and I was able to breathe again; I was able to concentrate and go back to pretending.

Damn it! I hate it when he does that!

It's almost like, every time I think something negative about him, all he has to do is look at me, and I regret thinking it. But - but most of the time, he deserves it. It's not like I don't have my reasons for thinking that Miroku's such a lecher. He's a promiscuous person, by nature, though what caused it, I have no idea.

All he has to do is look at a woman, pretend that he was actually interested in her for her, and she was his, wrapped around his little pinkie finger.

He looked at me again, too, and I could feel my blood begin to boil, and my eyes hardened.

"What about this, Sango?"

I turned, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning into my back, and I looked at Kagome, wondering what it was she asking about now. If truth be told, she didn't really need any help with picking things out - she looked cute in anything. Well, except for that black trench coat she had picked up. The only black that suited her was her hair, and even then, it looked like it was more blue than black anyways.

I had substituted the black trench coat for a red one, and she seemed delighted with that one even more so, and I could see Inuyasha eying it jealously. Red always was his favorite color, and even though Kagome was buying it for her, the jacket was made for a man. But it looked better on Kagome than it ever would on Inuyasha.

I looked at the outfit she had on now, and tried to suppress a laugh.

She was dressed in bright pink pajamas, with blue and yellow bunnies on them, each of them smiling happily.

If I were one of those bunnies, I would die of embarrassment.

Pink so definitely wasn't my color.

"It's, uh, different," I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest, "I mean, no one would see you in it, would they?"

"Sango!" Kagome gasped, slightly offended, "It's so - so _cute._ I mean, just look at them, they're _bunnies._"

"I think she knows what the hell they are," Inuyasha grumbled, stepping up next to her, "but there is no way in hell I'm spending my money on _that_ shit."

"I don't know," Miroku said standing next to me, "it certainly adds to her angelic innocence."

Boy was he being nasty today.

Kagome pouted, looking almost like a child, and I could feel the doubt rising within me again; I could feel the bitterness and the anger that if she screwed anything up, I wouldn't hesitate to hurt her. But as soon as it had risen, it had fell again, because she looked us all straight in the face, her blues eyes determined, shimmering, and it was beautiful.

For a second, it was almost like it was her against us, the Angel fighting the humans, and I thought that it would only end in a deadly scene. Pain flourished beneath the surface, and I felt Miroku squeeze my fingers slightly, before moving away, toward Kagome, and I felt bitter.

"Well, it is cheap, Inuyasha. Surely you can afford to get her one ridiculous outfit."

Inuyasha scowled, flopping back down into his seat.

"This outfit is not ridiculous," Kagome huffed, "you three just have no taste."

"Oh, I'm sure," I smiled, rolling my eyes, "you'd look better nude than in that."

"And I'm sure it would be a lovely sight," Miroku added, his hand gripping her shoulder tightly.

"Ew," Kagome grumbled, attempting to pry Miroku's hand from her shoulder, "You guys are weird, to be completely honest."

"Nope, not weird," Miroku said jovially, and for a second, I actually believed that he actually _was_ happy, "you just don't understand us."

There was a pause, and Kagome looked as though she were about to deflate. The fingers curled around Miroku's hand tightened, loosened, and then they fell to her side, hanging limply.

The look in her eyes was something that I had never experienced before, the look of defeat, and although I had felt it many times before, I had never seen it, and it caused something within me to clench, to actually begin to feel _sorry_ for the girl, and once again, Miroku was pinning me with that piercing stare, before moving from behind Kagome, giving her shoulder a rough squeeze.

I saw her wince, and couldn't help but wonder why.

Why was he being so nasty towards her? Why was he acting so cruel? So protective? My brow furrowed, and I tried my best not to glare at the man, instead, turning to glance at Inuyasha, who was watching the whole scene with indifference. Something inside me quivered, and my emotions felt like they were suddenly on my sleeve, bare, for the world to see.

Their nonchalance was making me angry; it was causing my fists to clench and my eyes to narrow, and, to be completely honest, I didn't like it. There was something there, between the two men, that I couldn't begin to comprehend, something that was for them and them alone. It bothered me, more than anything, and I knew that if this kept up, I would snap.

I wanted to be an adult, desperately.

But the way they were acting was immature, cruel, and they certainly weren't being the men that they pretended to be. I wanted to yell at them, to lecture them, to somehow, bring to light the way Kagome was feeling but... but then, I remembered my own wicked thoughts towards her, I remembered the dark looks Miroku had given me, and knew that it was something that I could not interfere with it.

It wasn't nice, no. But it also wasn't my business and I had to accept that.

I could understand, somewhat, but the other half of me was still trying to grasp that concept in my mind, still trying to twist it into some semblance of the truth.

It wasn't that Miroku hated Kagome, in truth, it was hard for him to hate anyone but... but there was something that needed protecting, something that I had to work to protect as well, and Miroku was only being defensive.

I still wanted to hurt him.

"You two, outside, _now_," I bit out, ignoring the way Kagome's eyes widened.

Inuyasha looked at me, shrugged, and walked out of the department store, still scowling. Miroku, however, fixed me with a penetrating stare, as though to defy me, and his hand wrapped around Kagome's hand, squeezing her fingers painfully. I watched her flinch, attempt to pull her fingers away from him, and then Miroku was following me outside the building, leaving Kagome standing in front of her dressing room, still ridiculously clad in those bunny pajamas.

"Explain," I demanded, trying not to get angry.

"You wouldn't understand Sango," Miroku answered, he and Inuyasha sharing another look.

I hated that look, the one between men. It was almost like the one between women, where they just had to look each other in the eye, and almost instantly, the other would know what they were thinking. It was the same way with lovers, only that was on a more intimate level, and slightly more annoying.

In all the time that I had known those two, I knew they shared looks, because Miroku and I shared looks at times. Inuyasha and I shared them. It was something common between us, when we felt like communicating something that would be better left unvoiced, but now, it was just annoying. I didn't like being left out of the loop, like nothing more than extra baggage, because I, too, was part of this. I had led her into his life, had planted her there, indefinitely, and there was no way that they were going to do... whatever it was that was running through their thick male skulls.

"And how would I not understand?"

"Because," Miroku replied, "there is a story to tell, but now is not the time."

His voice and eyes both darkened then, and Inuyasha's scowl grew deeper. There was something more that was going on here, something that made me extremely uncomfortable. I turned back to the store, towards the window, and saw Kagome still standing there, in those same pajamas, watching us, her eyes glowing strangely.

"It's really rude of you, if you think about it," I answered, my fingers twitching, "we are supposed to be adults after all, and yet here you are, acting like children."

"Like you can fucking understand," Inuyasha snapped, his eyes hardening.

I felt my fists clench at my side, my temper rise, and Miroku let out a sigh, his eyes fluttering closed.

"Now is not the time, nor the place, Inuyasha."

"Whatever. Don't speak to me like I'm some fucking child," Inuyasha glowered, taking a moment to pin both of us with a piercing stare before walking back into the clothing store, flopping lazily into his chair, still fuming.

I felt Miroku shift next to me, his hand gripping my fingers gently, and I suppressed the urge to sigh.

"I apologize," he said quietly, squeezing my fingers," but now just isn't the time."

I could feel the bitterness rising within me, could feel the anger and resentment starting to churn, and I quickly took my fingers back.

"Your apologies are such crap sometimes," I muttered, refusing to look him the eyes," they don't _mean_ anything."

Miroku frowned, taking my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him.

"I never say anything I don't mean."

The laugh was cold, and already, I was slipping behind the mask, wishing it could have been easier than this.

I was already beginning to hate myself, hate the way this day was going. Who knew that someone so young, so innocent, so completely _unaware_ could cause so much disharmony between three people who have relied on each other more than anything? We were like family, the three of us, and yet, as soon as Kagome stepped into our lives, she was already making everyone's emotions go haywire.

Inuyasha had already broken down at the sight of her, at the smell of her, at the sound of her, at the feel of her. He wouldn't do it again, I knew that. He was much more resilient than other people actually believed. If anything, he held out, more than anyone else could, because he was stronger than everyone else. He was stronger than me, because, even though I had promised myself not to cry, I still did, and the simple fact that it took a teenage girl _looking_ at me, just to get me to break down... I felt weak and insignificant.

But then, Inuyasha must have felt the same way too, with the way he broke down, the way he got sick and hated them. It was so easy to bring him to anger though, I had seen that more than once. She must have said something or done something to get him to react so strongly, to get him to be so defensive and... I sighed, closing my eyes slightly.

She was definitely something else, to have affected three adults the way she has. She caused Miroku to become defensive, to become the shield, the one that was always saving us from outside influences. Miroku had his problems too, but most of the time, he was so worried about us, he never had anytime to focus on his own. I suppose that's what makes him so different from Inuyasha and I. He ignores his problems for others, and yet, Inuyasha and I simply say we are going to help, but instead, we allow our legs to buckle out from beneath us, and always rely on others to hold us up. Always relying on Miroku.

And he fell into the role, so completely, it was hard to be angry at him.

It was always hard to be angry at him, to be honest. There were times, when my anger was disgustingly apparent, when I was completely alone, when the barriers came down and saw who I truly was. Kagome had done that, the night she had come to ask for my help. She had seen me, although not purposely, because I had been too groggy to even realize that I had hadn't put up the barriers.

It seemed as though the barriers saved me from everything, even myself. And Miroku, all he did was help, enforcing that barrier, keeping us steady. So I just... I just couldn't find it in myself to be angry with him, because he was there for us, had always been there for us, and nothing was going to change that.

But he knew his role, and sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder _what if._

What if he was only going through the motions? What if he was only pretending, the way I was so used to doing, to be actually shielding us? What if, what if, what _if_?

The thought nagged at me, and I crossed my arms over my chest, stepping away from him, attempting to avoid any physical contact.

"And yet that meant nothing," I retorted, looking back towards the clothing shop.

Miroku frowned, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

"You mistake my intentions Sango. I would _never _lie to you."

"So why can't you tell me? I'm your friend, right? We have been together for a while now, you can trust me to try and understand you, at least."

"People who are together would never hide behind their own pain, _Sango_."

The insult was loud and clear, and the anger was rising again, bubbling over the surface, the thread threatening to snap.

"I don't get it!" I snapped, feeling my face heat, "What are you so pissed about!"

"If you have to ask, then you aren't worth answering."

The hurt exploded.

"_Fuck you_," I whispered, hating myself, feeling my resentment twisting around my being, ensaring my heart, my emotions, and it made me feel weak.

"I would love to Sango," Miroku replied nonchalantly," but you keep saying no."

I growled, quelling the urge to slap him, instead, giving him one last icy glare before storming into the store, my emotions on the fritz.

Gods, I _hated_ this.

I hated the way I was acting. I hated the way Miroku was acting. The way Inuyasha was acting. I hated it _all._

I had never felt so childish, so pathetic, in my entire life. But, what I hated most of all, was the fact that it _hurt_. It hurt because I thought that I had been part of them, part of who they were, and yet, they threw that back in my face, the both of them, as though I was an outsider that didn't matter. All I had done was ask them to trust me, to have faith in me and my abilities to believe in them. To trust them. But they didn't. Instead, they turned away from me, blocked me out, refused to allow me to lean on them, the way they always wanted to lean on me.

I could feel my fists clenched tightly, and for a moment, I was afraid that my nails were going to pierce through my flesh, but then, I realized, it wouldn't matter.

One of my safety barriers had already been shattered, what was one more?

Inuyasha gave me a long side glance, his eyes disturbingly blank, before he turned towards Kagome, who was talking to a saleswoman, a small smile on her face.

I suppose, when Inuyasha had stormed back in, she had decided to continue trying on clothes, not wanting anyone's advice except for Inuyasha's. But, judging by the way Kagome was talking to the saleperson, Inuyasha hadn't been any help. He probably spent the time brooding, which was something he often did, and in that moment, I knew that he had thrown up a wall so strong and so thick, not even Kagome could get through it. He had to be the one to take it down, he had to be the one to want her to see what was hidden on the other side.

I groaned mentally.

Life wasn't fair, and I was really beginning to hate it.

* * *

"Are you sure you're all right?" Kagome asked me, holding six shopping bags in her hands.

I had taken the time to walk next to her, knowing that I wouldn't be able to deal with walking anywhere near Inuyasha and Miroku, who had both gone in different directions after the argument. I knew they were probably going their own ways home, ignoring everything, and yet... I had just started to feel bad about everything that happened.

Kagome had been kind enough not to comment on what had happened. She remained silent, calm, and, surprisingly, she had managed to get her bunny pajamas after all. I know she could sense the tension in the air, when we had all been together, because even though Inuyasha would glance at me from over his shoulder (or rather, he was really just glancing at Kagome and just _pretending _it was me, I don't know. Although, I do sound more probable, after all) but Miroku would remain cold, distant, and it nagged at me.

It was so very obvious what had bothered us all. After all, Kagome was young, but she wasn't stupid. She had wanted to ask, but instead, she remained quiet, showing that she was mature, probably more mature than the three of us had acted, and it made me resent her, just a little bit more. But, at the same time, I admired her for having the guts to even sit around us, especially after everything that had happened.

She was a different kind of girl, special, in her own way, and she was here to help Inuyasha.

That was all that should have mattered but -

But it wasn't.

There was something else that was bothering us, that was bothering them, and I needed to know why. Of course, I could understand Inuyasha... there was a girl who was about to get into his business, who was going to make him drop from the sky without a parachute, hoping that he would land and live. But Miroku... Miroku was just being a bastard. There was no reason to try and drive her away, unless it was based on some sort of insecurity that was within _him_.

Damn, men really piss me off.

"I'll be fine," I answered after a moment of silence.

"I would call you a liar, but I still don't know you that well, and I'm not comfortable enough around you to do it."

A small smile came to my lips, and I elbowed her gently.

"You just did."

She had the good graces to laugh and blush too.

Gods this girl was something else.

I was only hoping that it was for the better, and not for the worse.

* * *

(_Kagome POV_)

The tension was thick in the air, and for a moment, I didn't know what to do. I knew I had done something wrong, there was no doubt about that. But for them to get into a fight over me? It made me feel sad and useless.

I had been sent there, not to cause problems, but to help things get better, and by the looks of it, it was getting nowhere fast. Inuyasha had gone storming back into the store after Sango had ordered them out, and I had tried to get him to engage in conversation, but he ignored me, giving me gruff off-handed replies. He didn't care, that much was obvious by the way he was acting. Miroku and Sango were still outside, and judging by the way Sango kept stiffening and gritting her teeth, she was getting more than a little mad.

She had stormed in, right after Inuyasha, and pretended that she was interested in what was going on as well. But it didn't matter, not at that point anyways, because I decided that enough was enough. I got a salesperson, to help me decide on what clothes I should get, and she helped me. Inuyasha wasn't too happy with some of the selections, after all, I did manage to snag those cute pajamas that everyone seemed to hate but...

I still couldn't help but feel sad.

I could feel Miroku's eyes on me when we walked outside, after having paid for everything, and there was something unexplainable in them. I remembered the way he had grabbed me, the way he caused my shoulder to tingle and burn and it bothered me. He was just so strange, so different, I honestly didn't know what to think. Sango and Inuyasha both spared him a glance, out of habit, more than anything, before they each started walking in their own direction.

I didn't know who to follow, or where to go, so I tagged along with Sango, hoping that her attitude would ease up, if only for a little bit.

She was still angry, her voice was more than a little clipped, but after a second, she smiled, and it made my heart just a little bit lighter.

I was still feeling slightly aggravated from earlier that morning, when I had been jostled in between all those people, but between Miroku touching me, Inuyasha glaring at me, and Sango just... not being as nice as I had first led myself to believe, it was certainly a strange morning. I just hoped that, once I moved into Inuyasha's house, it wouldn't be like this every morning.

Of course, I wouldn't see him all the time, seeing as to how he would be working, but I could still do things to make his life just a little bit better.

He had cried the last time I saw him, in his own home. I just only hoped that his soul wouldn't shatter within the time that I would be there. I don't know if I would be able to pick up the mess. And, if I could, it would take a lot of time, a lot of hard work, and I was afraid, more than anything, that I would fail.

The messy tangle of their relationship would only make things harder, that I could tell, simply from the fight alone. I don't know if Sango knew I had the ability to see things in a sharp, crystal clarity, especially when people's emotions are very bright and clear, eating away at me slowly, but being oh so very understandable. I could read her annoyance, her anger, the resentment. But when she looked at me, I could hear her soul screaming out, and it was one of the most terrifying things that I had ever heard.

It was as though someone and ran their arm through my chest, their fingers curling around my heart, hoping, more than anything, that they could tear it away from my being.

It was painful, it made me want to cry out in agony, but instead, tears fell down my face, and once Sango looked away, I felt that heavy weight lifting off of my shoulders, my thoughts slowly circling back to the past.

_I'm not real._

I was still disturbed, still frightened, and the anger I felt towards both Inuyasha and the Entity intensified, before slowly dwindling into a small, bluish flame.

These three were more complicated than anyone I have ever come across.

Although, I knew that, if I delved deeper into their lives, there would be more, and it was possible that those people were just haunted as them - those people probably played a giant role in making Inuyasha, Miroku, and Sango the way that they are now.

It made me angry, to think that _anyone_ could have possibly hurt these people.

I didn't know them very well - I don't even think I liked them very much - but I was already feeling possessive over them, I could already feel my heart twisting and turning because I didn't want them to _hurt_ anymore. It made it hard to breathe, thinking of the possible hurts and pains they may have experienced.

They could have been happy, once.

But now - now it was like they were nothing more but shells of their former selves.

They still had their own personalities, of course, and the pain within their hearts helped define that more than anything.

Part of me didn't want to change them. Not now.

Because then, I would be changing who they were, who they had grown to be.

The other half of me though... it was begging me to just take them into my arms and to hold them. To allow them to have someone else to lean on, because I was new, I was special, and I was sent there to make a _difference._

I still doubted myself, even then, but... I just wanted to help them so _badly_ it caused my own chest to ache and my arms to feel numb.

Caring was never supposed to be this painful.

"Hey, Kagome?"

I paused, my eyes watering slightly, and I glanced at Sango, who was trying her best not to watch me carefully. Who was trying her best not to reach out, the way her emotions begged her to.

It hurt, more than anything to see that, and it made me want to cry.

"Yeah?"

"Do you - I just want to apologize for the way Miroku has been treating you. This isn't his normal behavior, you know."

"That's all right," I smiled, wiping the tears away," he's just trying to protect you two from something unfamiliar. I can't ask him to change that."

Sango blinked, clearly taken aback from what I said before she set her bags down, sitting gingerly on the wooden bench.

"How... did you know?"

"Well," I started, taking a seat next to the older girl," I kind of figured it out on my own. Remember, back in the office? He asked me if I was really going to stay and try to help. It's interesting, now that I think about it, because he didn't even believe the fact that I was an Angel, and yet, when he asked me that question, I got the feeling that he already _knew_ what I was, and didn't need a showcase, the way you and Inuyasha did."

Sango was chewing on her lower lip nervously, as though unsure of what to say, before leaning back against the back of bench, tilting her head to look at the leaves and branches above us.

"He's never been so rude before."

It was a whisper, meant more for herself than for me, yet she shared it with me, and it made me feel significant.

"Sango," I said softly, touching my fingers to her knuckles," he's just trying to protect the people he loves. You can't be angry at him for it."

She smiled, gently, but her eyes were hard and she was still refusing to look at me.

"But he's protecting us from something that he has no right to protect us from. You know that, just as well as I do."

"Yes, maybe, but I don't think so. I mean, I've seen you cry; I've seen Inuyasha cry. Next, all I need to do is see Miroku cry, and then you all will have lost your support and be completely broken," I paused then, feeling my throat stinging, dreading the day when that would come," and I will be there to pick up all the pieces. I am going to hurt you all, very much, even though I don't want to. I - I have to, to make sure that you'll be happy."

Sango gave a soft sigh, her fingers curling up to trap mine, and her hand was warm.

I could feel her stress, her fright, her despair, and I could feel my other arm, wrapping around her shoulder, pulling her closer to me.

She was breaking, already, and at the moment, I didn't know how to help her. It wasn't completely shattered, but there were cracks, all throughout her interior, allowing the ache to come through, to shine in my eyes and let me know that she needed help, more than anything.

I wish I could have cried for her, but she didn't want anymore tears.

"Don't hurt us too badly, okay?"

"Okay," I whispered, hugging her gently.

And in that moment, I knew, more than anything, that my wings definitely weren't worth this pain.

But their happiness was, and they deserved it, more than anything.

* * *

We arrived at Inuyasha's home later than expected, and Sango was still feeling rundown from the moment in the park. She had been silent the entire walk there, but I had been expecting it. She had broken down and started crying, not like last night, and for that I was glad. The last time she did that, my heart attempted to reach out to her, but something had pulled me back, reining me in.

I had told her, that night, that I could only help Inuyasha. I found it increasingly disturbing that I lied.

I had helped her by holding her, by allowing her to hold me, and it irked me, even more so than when Miroku wouldn't let go of my shoulder.

When we reached the door, Sango kicked up the mat, knelt down, and picked up the house key. She let herself in, surprisingly, especially since she told me that she didn't make it a habit to visit their house.

I entered, and the same cold memory of what happened the night before came back to me, tugging at my mind, as though trying to get me to back away from the chill, the feeling of being unwelcome.

Sango set the bags down next to the door, kicked off her shoes, and then, she was headed into the living room while I, for the first time, got a good look at everything in the house. I frowned. It wasn't as nice as I remembered it. In fact, it look just plain _dull._ If this was one of the reasons that Sango didn't come over to visit, then I completely agreed with her.

Men were never any good with interior decoration.

Well, not _most_ boys, at least.

No one was in the living room, from what I saw, but recognizing the same soft couch that I had been led to the day before, I sat down on it, my eyelids drooping closed.

I didn't expect to be so tired. I mean, I know I had to deal with continual emotional onslaughts all day, but really, it wasn't as though it was a _lot_, so I couldn't understand why I was so tired. I yawned, tilting my head back slightly, feeling Sango watching me with amusement.

Silence stretched between us as we waited for one of the two men to either come out from whatever room they were hiding in, or to simply come through the front door.

"How long?"

"They'll get here when they get here," Sango answered, inspecting her nails," anyways, do you want to raid their fridge? I'm starving."

I yawned again, and rubbed my eyes.

"Sure, I guess. Can you cook?"

"Uhm, well, _no_. As you can tell from earlier, Miroku always brings Inuyasha and I lunch, which he cooks himself."

"And which he didn't share with me," I frowned, looking towards the other girl. Sango smiled at me, shrugged her shoulders, and then stood, stretching slightly.

"Do you want some cookies or something? I'm sure they have some."

"No," I answered, standing as well," Mama taught me how to cook," I smiled a little, the memory hitting me hard, washing away my tiredness," so I'm sure I could make something simple."

Sango smiled at me, nodded.

"Then I'll just leave it to you," she mumbled, sitting back down and turning on the television.

I scowled, slightly, wishing that she could at least have offered to help, but shrugged it off. It wasn't like it was very important anyways.

I walked into the kitchen, and blinked. It was very clean, and very nice, and it surprised me. I mean, my younger brother didn't even know how to clean up after himself after he finished eating but... I had to keep reminding myself that I was around adults. They were different from children, except for, well, when children tended to get that slice of wisdom that can surpass even an adults intellect. That was scary, whenever Souta started giving advice that only people with life experience should be giving but then... we did live on a shrine, so it wasn't like it couldn't be expected. With the way my brother and I grew up with each other, and the people around us, it would have been hard for us to _not_ adopt some of the wisdom that my mother and my grandfather possessed.

Smiling, and doing my best to ignore the sharp stab of sorrow near my heart, I started fumbling around the kitchen, looking for food to eat.

They didn't have much of a selection to tell the truth, and it bothered me. Because, even though they were adults, they were still guys, and apparently, food wasn't high on their list of required needs. I frowned, digging around the vegetable drawers, before pulling out some broccoli, carrots, zuccini, and sweet potatoes. It had been a while since I made tempura, and for a second, I was wishing that they had some seafood to go with it.

Shrugging, I searched for the pantry, finally finding it after five minutes (Sango had yelled at me to quiet down, I guess the opening and closing of all their cupboards was really starting to annoy her), and took out some rice.

Cooking was always something that used to relax me, believe it or not, and it was something that I treasured. Knowing that my mom had been the one to teach me made it all the more worth it. My heart ached at the thought of my mother, and instantly, I busied myself with preparing the fryer, cutting the vegetables, and steaming the rice. It helped keep my mind off of everything, off of what I supposed to truly be doing, and, for a moment, I felt as though I were back home, being watched over by my mother as she taught me everything that I needed to know.

_Ah, no Kagome, that's not right. Here, like this._

She would always smile whenever I did something wrong, and gently, guide me to do what was right. She wasn't harsh... my mom could never be harsh. She loved both my brother and me way too much. She was always there, no matter what happened, and if anything had ever gone wrong...

My hand fisted tightly around the butchers knife, and the anxiety grew inside me.

Gods I _missed_ her.

I knew that I wouldn't be able to see her anymore, that I couldn't get close to her, even if I wanted to.

I knew where I would be able to find her, and it would have been so easy just to get up, and walk out of the house, just so I could get to her.

But... but if I did that then - _then_...

My chest tightened, and I could feel my eyes begin to sting.

I wanted to be happy, I tried so _hard_ to be happy, but I missed my family so much.

I just wanted to be around them again; I wanted to laugh and cry and be angry with them again. I wanted to be held by my mother, taught by my grandfather, annoyed by my younger brother... Gods, I wanted it all back so _badly._

The tears were streaming down my face then, and I could feel my body shaking uncontrollably.

Why was there so much sadness? Why was there always so much grief and despair? I hated it, more than anything. I hated feeling like this, hated feeling so useless and inadequate. But... but there was no other _way_ and it just caused me to hurt all the more.

I could hear the door slamming in the distance, through the fog in my mind, through the sorrow in my heart, but I couldn't pay attention to it. The sadness was swirling around in my head, clinging to even contour of my body, and slowly, I was sliding to the flood, pressing my hands to my eyes, feeling the handle of butchers knife pressing into my temple.

It all hurt, so badly, more than _anything_ I had ever felt in my life.

I didn't want this anymore; I didn't want to _do_ this anymore.

I wanted to be alive, with my family, surrounded by people I loved, people who loved me.

But instead, I was here, as an Angel, surrounded by people who hated me, people who would love for nothing more than for me to disappear.

And, Gods, I would have disappeared if I could.

"Kagome?"

I paused, letting out a shuddering breath, and rubbed my eyes viciously, trying to get the tears to stop.

But they will still there, still streaming down my face, and I couldn't stop them.

"Ye - yeah?"

I didn't turn around, embarrassed at the way I was acting, at the way that I felt, and I could feel the presence coming closer to me, kneeling besides me, and placing a strong, firm hand on my shoulder.

"You'll be all right," and I gasped, my eyes wide as he cleaned closer to me, pulling me back against his chest," It gets easier from here, I promise."

I could feel something inside my chest clenching, pinching, pulling, and then, he had lifted me up, extracted the knife from my hands, and slipped back into his role, pretending that I wasn't there, that I didn't exist.

I was stunned to say the least, but the sorrow was still there, weighing heavily in my chest, trying it's best to push aside the shock.

"Ah, uhm," I paused, hating the fact that I couldn't think of anything intelligent to say.

"You can get the batter ready, if you would like."

I nodded slowly, moving around the kitchen, picking out the supplies, mixing them together.

It was strange, surreal, knowing that we were both here, working together, pretending that there was perfect harmony.

But my heart was still aching, and I was still surprised, not knowing what to think.

He had hated me, hadn't he? He hadn't wanted me around, screwing everything up, breaking everyone apart, and yet... even when I was crying, he had known what I wanted, and he had held me, even if for a little bit, just to tell me that it would be all right. I was so _confused_, I didn't know what to do. I wanted to believe him, more than anything, I _needed_ to believe him but... but the doubt was there, lingering in my mind, teasing me.

He's supposed to hate me.

But then, why does it feel like he never _had_?

"Uh, excuse me, Miroku?"

He paused for a second, acknowledging the fact that he heard me, before moving towards the fryer, lowering the temperature slightly.

"Why-"

"Are you finished with that batter?" He asked, effectively cutting off my question.

I recoiled, stung by the coldness of his voice, before nodding, moving to place it next to him. He glanced at me, his eyes extremely dark, before wiping off his hands on a towel, and slowly, dipping the vegetables into the batter. I watched him, for a moment, as he concentrated completely on preparing the food. His brow was wrinkled, and his shoulders were set, the muscle in his jaw twitching slightly, and I could tell he was quietly grinding his teeth together.

He looked so tense, so uncomfortable, standing there, having me watch him, and for a second, I felt extremely guilty. But then, something inside me told me to look closer, to break apart the barriers and to find out what it is that drove him. My hands curled into fists, determination seeping through my body, and then, I was smiling, placing my hand upon his shoulder.

"If you don't want to me ask, then I won't," I said, trying to tap into his emotions, but he was quickly pulling away, piercing me with a dark look," That doesn't mean that I won't find out however. You can't hide everything from me forever, you know, and I'm determined. And, from what I've seen, a determind Angel is a dangerous one."

I grinned at him, watching the way his gaze moved over me, feeling slightly uncomfortable, but trying my best not to show it.

"Then I won't make the same mistake of underestimating _you_ as well."

"Huh?"

"It's nothing," Miroku replied with a wave of his hand, completely dismissing me," Stir the rice."

I frowned, my eyes narrowing slightly in thought before I shrugged it off, and went to do what he told me to.

Dinner was ready fifteen minutes later, and I was surprised at how nice it actually looked. It certainly wasn't much, my mother made dinners bigger than this, but still, food was food, and by the way Sango quickly started eating, she didn't care either.

I sat back, watching the three of them carefully, noticing the way their shoulders stiffened under my scrutiny. They weren't looking at me, but I knew that they could feel my gaze, and it made them uncomfortable.

I rolled my tempura around, thoughtfully, Miroku's words still drifting through my mind, trying to make sense of what he had said.

But the thing was, it _didn't_ make any sense.

I mean, how could he make the same mistake of underestimating me, unless he had underestimated me already? And, I know for a fact that he possibly couldn't have underestimated me before, unless he was counting when I had gone to Sango, instead of giving up, just so I could get into their lives.

But, it wasn't like he had shunned me the first time I saw him.

In fact, he had joked with me, pretending that I was just some school girl with a crush on Inuyasha.

When I had told him that I was angel, he acted as though I were insane and... he _hadn't_ shunned me. He had been polite, kind, and it was only afterwards he had started acting cruel towards me.

But, then again, I had already started to break Inuyasha, simply by being in his presence.

I frowned, tapping my chopsticks against plate, the wheels turning in my head.

I could understand now, why he would be angry with me, but the fact of the matter was, he had said something that had caused my head to spin and... and...

"Damn!" I exlaimed in frustration, slamming my chopsticks down on the table.

A guy shouldn't be this hard to figure out! Especially one who wore his emotions on his sleeve the way that I did only... I frowned, rubbing the heels of my hands in my eyes.

He didn't.

He blocked me, the way Inuyasha had blocked me, the way Sango had blocked me.

I frowned, glancing at all of them once, before standing, picking up my plate.

"Are you okay Kagome?" Sango asked me, a vegetable halfway to her mouth.

"Yes. No. Kinda," I said with a sigh, rubbing my forehead," just not very hungry, I guess."

Inuyasha snorted, rolling his eyes.

"Well, as soon as we're done, I can show you to the guest room," Sango said, sipping some water.

"I thought you said you don't visit here often."

"Doesn't mean I don't know where everything is," she responded around her chopsticks," I've been here enough to know how to find things."

"Oh," I said, rubbing my arm," Well, I'll just put this in the sink, then."

"Give it to us," Miroku said, pulling the plate from my hand," we don't enjoy wasting food."

I nodded, glancing around awkwardly, before putting a smile on my face, and walking towards the kitchen door.

"I'll just start to clean out the fryer then," I said, giving an excuse just so I could escape the tense atmosphere that I, myself, had created.

When I entered the kitchen, though, I glanced at the fryer, sighed, and set to work.

I didn't want to think about things right now. They were too complicated.

* * *

The room they left me in wasn't at all as messy as they had first led me to believe.

In fact, it was the cleanest room in the house, and it made me wonder, for a second, why, exactly, they had thought that it would need to be cleaned out, especially since it looked like no one had been in here since... well, never.

I smiled happily, moving around the room, checking things out (they had a touch lamp I couldn't help playing with), before dumping all of my clothes out onto the bed, and looking over them.

They sure did buy me a lot of things... things that weren't needed as much as others. I saw the pajamas that they hadn't wanted me to wear, and I grinned, quickly stepping out of the clothes that Sango lent me, and into them. They were soft, and really fuzzy, and I loved them. Despite the way they looked, I'm sure that if Sango had tried them on, she would have loved them too.

Humming happily, I folded all of my clothes, hanging the dresses and shirts up in the closet, before moving towards the dressers with the pants and the underclothes.

It felt surreal, to finally be moving in, to be staying with them, because, when I had said that, I hadn't expected them to actually _allow_ me to. I had expected them to try and lynch me for even suggesting it but... but they had agreed to it, faster than I had imagined.

Smoothing out the stack of panties in my hand, I opened the drawer ready to put them in and froze.

What. The. _Hell?_

My eyebrows shot up, hiding behind my bangs, and I stared hard at the contents of the drawer.

_Women's underwear?_

I blushed, uncomfortable at the thoughts running through my head, unsure of what to do.

It was certainly awkward, seeing other people's clothes in drawers that were meant for me and...

Miroku's words came back to me, and for a second, I felt like an idiot.

_It hasn't been used in a while._

Clearing my throat, I set my clothes down, and quickly went to grab an empty bag, before scooping out all of the clothes, and putting them into the bag.

Gods, I was so embarrassed, having to touch someone else's bras and panties and... and why didn't the person who stayed here take her things in the first place!

Unless, of course, they didn't belong to a girl.

"Ew! No! Kagome, don't think like that!" I scolded myself, trying to erase my mind of those images.

Quickly, I threw the rest of my clothes in the empty drawers, and picked up the bags, depositing them outside my door.

I could hear the shower on, hear music coming from one of the rooms, and I shrugged; I guess after dinner, no one really spoke to each other.

It must have been lonely, staying in a house where people kept to themselves.

I shut the door to my room, moving to sit on my bed, and stared around the bland room, trying to figure out what I was going to do.

Inuyasha and Miroku were cold, freezing. I had already managed to get Sango to open up to me, and, for a moment, Miroku had even tried to comfort me, telling me that it would get easier. Inuyasha had followed me, accepting the fact that he couldn't make me disappear but... I frowned. It was progress, I admit. But the progress was so small, it seemed too insignificant; I didn't know what to do. Surely, there had to be something else, something that I could do to see them at their most vulnerable.

Not that I wanted to see it. I wished more than anything that I didn't have to but... but it was needed.

I didn't like hurting people's feelings. I didn't like knowing that the future was clouded with pain and anger.

There would be happiness, sometime, if I didn't fail. But it looked so bleak and impossible to reach, just thinking about it caused the depression to sink in quickly.

I rubbed my temples, glancing around the room one more time.

I shouldn't think about it; it would only make things more difficult, more unbearable.

"Just move on from today," I whispered to myself," Helping them is all that matters, Kagome."

I patted the side of head, sighing loudly, before reaching over and turning off the bedside lamp.

The fact that I was tired, didn't even register until I was curled under the sheets, my eyes drooping closed. The darkness came quickly, the silence surrounded me, and I fell, peacefully, into oblivion.

* * *

It was raining hard, causing my clothes to stick to my body and a violent shudder to dance up my spine.

I sneezed, gripping my arms tightly, wishing, briefly, that I was back home with my mother, wishing that I could have done something, anything to prevent what had happened, but, instead I was here, rain mixing with angry tears, hating the way life was. Hating the person _I_ was.

I had truly been stupid to think that she would agree, to think that she would let me go out on my own, to think that she would trust me.

I had thought that she had my trust, that she could believe in it, but I had been wrong.

Gods, I felt so incredibly _stupid._

She had looked at me, something strange in her eyes, and turned away, pretending that she hadn't even heard me.

"I'm sorry, but it just isn't possible."

I had froze, then, shock causing my body to stiffen, and then came the bitter angry words, the sharp stabs of pain. It was almost as though something were ripping me apart, tearing my to shreds, and instantly, I had screamed at her, the tears streaming down my face, my nails digging into my hands.

I stood still, the anger still burning within me, wondering at what I should do. Wishing that there was something else that could be done.

I knew I couldn't go back there, not with that... that _woman_.

The tears stung, and I bit down on my lip, trying to erase the pain.

I hated her now, more than anything. I hated the fact that she had denied me what I needed more than anything.

There was bile, and it was rising in the back of my throat, flowing out onto my tongue, and I fell to my knees, the tears hurting, my throat tightening in an attempt to keep my sickness down.

Gods, I hated it, I hated it so _much._

"You stupid, stupid..." I cried, rubbing at my eyes, trying to stop the weakness.

But it wouldn't stop, and the wounds were still open, still raw. I could feel myself slipping, quickly, roughly, and immediately, I jumped to my feet, trying to run.

I had to get away; I had to stay away.

She couldn't keep me there, not anymore.

She would not control my life; I wouldn't _let_ her.

My legs were burning, my hands were numb, and I could feel the freezing air eating away at my skin, nipping at it harshly.

I shuddered again, the anger coursing through my mind, thinking only of escape.

I wouldn't let her break me down...

"Please..."

I froze, my eyes widening in fright, and I looked around quickly, hoping that I hadn't just heard that.

"Please just leave me alone..."

I could feel my heart beating rapidly; I could feel the fear rising within me, but I stayed still, my eyes wide.

Because there was someone there, and they were crying, bleeding, and looking so completely _broken_. I could feel my heart clenching tightly, and my knees were aching painfully as they connected with the concrete, horror and surprise spreading through my body.

"Oh my _God_."

The blood was flowing, closer and closer to me, soaking into my skirt, causing my body to shiver and my hands to tremble as I reached out to him.

"H - hey, are you - are you all right?"

I was afraid to touch him, more than anything, afraid of the blood that would get on my hands, afraid of the way he would look at me, afraid of how his eyes would glow as they connected with mine.

I touched his shoulder, feeling him tremble, and slowly, I attempted to pull him closer, to let him know he was safe.

But then, there was a searing hot pain shooting throughout my body, my stomach was twisting, turning, and I could feel something sliding down my body, soaking into my clothes.

Stars exploded behind my eyes, the pain increasing, my heart beating faster and faster and _faster_...

My stomach twisted again, and I could feel something hot and warm on my cheek; I feel it on the tips of my numbing fingers.

"I _hate_ you."

My body trembled, lurched forward, and suddenly I _screamed_...


	8. Chapter Seven

**A/N: **Alternating POVs, bad language, innuendos... you know, the usual.

_"We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth, and listen to the song of the siren till she transforms us into beasts." - **Patrick Henry**_

* * *

**Divine Aspiraton**

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

(Kagome POV) 

If there was one thing - one _thing_ - that they could have had the courtesy of doing, it would have been to give me a warning. But of course, for them, that would have been too much to ask. And, unfortunately for me, I had to learn the hard way.

Inuyasha is most definitely not a morning person.

But far be it for anyone to let me know not to be all cheery and happy at ten thirty in the morning. I mean, seriously, it wasn't even that _early_ and before the words "good morning!" left my mouth, Inuyasha was already snarling and cussing and making me wish that I would have hibernated in my room for the rest of the morning.

But of course, as I said, asking for a warning is just way too much to ask.

After all, I was already breathing their _oh-so-precious _air, I was already living under their_ oh-so-precious _roof, they were already allowing me to eat their_ oh-so-precious _food, and I really had no place in their _oh-so-precious _lives.

_Jerks._

I mean, honestly, would it have been so hard for Miroku to simply warn me that Inuyasha was a mean, cruel person before he's ingested any caffiene? Would it have hurt for him to let me know that I must stay _out of his way_, otherwise, he turns into a crazy raving psychopath? Would it have caused him to bleed, just to let me know that Inuyasha doesn't like to answer questions, even though he's already had his coffee, because he must first ingest some _sugar_, also? Would Miroku have _died_ just for letting me know that Inuyasha _hates_ me and wishes that I were _dead_ because I decided to assert myself into his life by promising him that I could find some obscure way to make him happy and to help make the pain nothing more than a small throb? Would he? Honestly?

_No,_ he wouldn't have. But did he pretend to? _Yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes._

JERK!

Argh. I really do not like them. I mean, I could try to. Really, I could. I'm not that disagreeable a person. But, truthfully, I really didn't like them. And the sad thing? I have to live with them. I have to live with two jerks, one who yells and is slightly crazy, and another who makes silent threats with his dark brooding eyes and is incredibly crazy, but just pretends to have etiquette and a wide range of vocabulary. Yes, crazy, they both are. And I have to live with them.

Just the other day, I was cheering myself on for my wonderous, ingenius idea. But now?

I just wish I could find some way to go back in time and change the fact that I am a genius, but one that doesn't think things through. But, of course, that would just be too much to ask, like every other thing in this household.

Sighing, I glanced back at Inuyasha, trying my hardest not to throw some scathing remark at him. Being evil was definitely not going to help my case.

"Ah, Inu-"

"Shut up," he growled, glaring at me from over his cereal. My hands tightened around my glass of water, and I could see the enlightened look that was currently dancing across Miroku's face. I felt like throwing my bowl at his face, but I decided to stay still instead.

This morning?

Going to hell.

Huffing, I took another sip of my water, trying to find the best way to get him to talk to me. I probably should have given up by now, but I knew that Miroku was counting on me to do something stupid... I think they both were. They have no reason to trust me, no reason to like me, and no reason to want me to be there, except for the fact that I probably wouldn't leave them alone. I couldn't help but giggle at that thought. Any normal person would have went to the police for a restraining order already. But them? They were different, the both of them.

And that was probably one of the reasons I was trying so hard to get them to understand me. Trying so hard to get them to get along with me, even though, in all honesty, it probably wasn't necessary. I mean, they already had accepted me, hadn't they? And, even though Inuyasha was a nasty morning person (I don't think he's a day person at all. I'm certain that he would be plenty agreeable if it were two o'clock in the morning and he was sleeping, unaware of the fact that I was trying to get his attention. Of course, it wouldn't help my case since I wouldn't be able to get any answers... but I digress) I don't think he truly hates me.

Find me annoying? Yes, most likely. Most people think I am annoying. Sango proved that fact rather nicely the night I dropped in on her. It also happened the same night I dropped in on Miroku and Inuyasha. They thought I was stupid. They thought I was some young school girl trying to have an illegal illicit affair with Inuyasha, although I'm not entirely sure why anyone would want to have a relationship with him. He has to be the nastiest, rudest, egotystical... well, no, that would be Miroku, especially with, what he claims to be, his wonderous sex appeal. But that's not the point. The point is, even though I barely know them, from what I've seen already, they are... well, _different._

Taking another gulp of water, I watched Inuyasha from across the table as he twirled his spoon in his hot cereal and glared menacingly at his coffee.

I couldn't help but wonder whether or not all the mysteries of the world were currently stored in that cup. Or, if in fact, he was wondering whether or not he lost his sanity by allowing me to live here. But, if truth be told, he was seriously lacking in sanity anyways, so I don't think it would make much of a difference. But at the moment? I'm just being mean.

Honestly though, I think I have every right to be after the way these two decided to treat me this morning. So completely and utterly _rude._

I sighed again, wishing for Sango to suddenly come around and intervene. Oh, boy, was I wishing for that.

"So, Kagome," Miroku suddenly said through the silence, causing me to jump. I looked at him, confused, and he merely smiled that small enlightened smile, as though he knew everything that was currently running through my head. "Did you find your night peaceful?"

Uhm, okay. Where is cynical, evil, you-have-no-right-to-be-apart-of-our-lives Miroku and what have you done with him?

"Uhm."

"Don't waste your time, idiot." Inuyasha scowled. "Apparently she's too stupid to under-"

"I understood the question just fine, thank you!"

Inuyasha smirked.

"Yeah, right. I didn't know that stuttering the word 'uhm' equated to the word _'no'._"

"Yes, well, it just threw me off guard, is all!" Boy, he was really beginning to make me mad. I tried my hardest not to yell at him, but before I even had a chance to count to ten and check my temper, I had already jumped to my feet, my hands were already clenched at my side, my voice was raising several octaves, and I knew was going to end up bursting a blood vessel. Souta and I used to yell at each other all the time, and when it wasn't Souta, it was my grandfather and I. And, of course, when it wasn't my grandfather and I having... small disagreements, it was my mother and I, although that was few and far in between. "Besides, why would he care whether I was having nightmares or not? He's spent all his time being a huge jerk and then just to turn around and rub it in my face? He's even worse than a jerk! He's - he's - argh!"

"A bastard?" Inuyasha suggested, taking way too much pleasure in my anger.

_Bastards._

"Yes! And who - why - what - ugh!"

"In a language we can both understand, please." Miroku grinned and sipped his water.

"Besides, what business is it of yours whether or not I'm having nightmares?" Miroku remained pleasantly silent. "And you!" I whirled on Inuyasha pointing an accusatory finger at him. "It's not your responsibility to answer any questions that aren't for you to answer and..."

I stared. At both of them. Because... because it just. wasn't. possible.

Both of them... _both of them_... they - they knew that I was having nightmares. They _knew_ that I had trouble sleeping that night and - I had woken up _screaming._ My body had felt like it was on fire, like a strange liquid heat was surging through me and thousands of hot knives were piercing through my flesh. I had woken up soaked in sweat, had woken up with tears streaking down my face, and for a second, it had felt like I was bleeding all over. It felt as though someone was currently raking sharp shards of glass against my chest and... my throat had felt raw, sore. In the delrium, I could almost _taste_ the blood in my mouth, had wanted to throw it up, and in a second, I was gagging, trying my hardest to get rid of the taste, the feeling, the scent.

Everything had smelled of sweat and blood. Everything had felt wet and warm and my tears had stung my eyes so I couldn't see properly. I had glanced down at my body, expecting to see nothing but white cloth, but in the darkness, all I saw was red, and it had frightened me. When I finally calmed down enough to realize that it was just my hot pink pajamas, I had scrambled out of the bed and threw off my clothes, attempting to get rid of the warm, wet feeling against my skin. It had been horrible. Terrifying.

And no one had come. No one had decided to ask if everything was all right but... but they had both heard me. They both knew. And somehow, that caused my chest to feel heavy as I stared at them in disbelief. In shock.

_They both heard me but no one came to see if there was anything they could do about it._

"Jerks," I whispered, falling down into my seat.

Inuyasha and Miroku glanced at each other, and I realized that I was crying. Angrily, I scrubbed at my eyes, refusing to look at any of them. That was just... it was... _cruel._ If any of them had been having nightmares, I would have gone to see if they were all right. I would have wondered whether or not there was anything I could have done to make it better and I would have _tried._ But they... neither of them seemed to _care_ about a delirious teenage-girl, who woke up screaming and thinking she was covered in blood. Nor did they care about a teenage-girl who woke up crying and scratching at her body because she thought that glass was sticking out from torn flesh, causing sharp stabs of pain to shoot throughout her body, making her faint and ill.

And as I sat there, wondering what it was that I did wrong, something cold and painful sliced through me, causing tears to come to my eyes once again.

Of course they wouldn't care about me. The only people they cared about were themselves.

I grabbed my cup of water and took a giant gulp of it, feeling the sorrow weighing down on me. My shoulders suddenly felt too heavy, my air passage suddenly too small, and the air around me was suddenly too hot.

But of course they wouldn't care. Not only because they just cared about themselves but... but because I never gave them a _reason_ to. And it was stupid of me to think that they would be kind enough to me, especially after everything that happened. Especially after I threw myself into their lives, demanding entrance, demanding that I, too, be a part of their lives because... I had made myself out to be the only way. And perhaps that was why they hated me so much. Because they didn't want to have to rely on anyone else to make them happy. They didn't want to rely on some naive little school-girl to make things just a little bit easier for them. No, no, of course not. If it had been me, I wouldn't have wanted them around me, either. I wouldn't have wanted some ill-tempered teenager suddenly barging in on my life, saying insane things such as "_I've been sent here from the Heavens by an Entity who wants you to have absolute happiness," _or _"I'm an Angel! Oh, yes, did I mention that I am going to be a permanent part of your life and must know all of your dark, painful secrets so that I can make you smile and laugh despite the fact that life has been inherently cruel to you? Oh, and, I am most likely to make you cry, but that doesn't matter! You're going to be happy!"_ Somehow, I think that I have may have over-looked some crucial fact while trying so hard to understand them.

But then again, Miroku did warn me. He did try to give me a chance to back out. He even said that I should leave because I really had no right to be there. Perhaps... perhaps he had attempted to do it for my own good. Perhaps he had been trying to warn me that it was going to be _extremely_ hard to get past all of their barriers, that it was going to be near impossible to understand all three of them, because their lives were all interwoven. If I affected one person, that would definitely affect another.

And that... that just about _sucked._

I chewed on my lip and looked at Inuyasha, wondering what I could do to get past his barriers. Wondering what could be done to make things easier. Wondering what I would have to do to get him to trust me.

Trust.

It seemed so insignificant a word but... everything, absolutely everything was riding on the way that I presented myself to him. On the way that I let him know that I wasn't here to hurt him, even though I would have to. And, somehow, that made everything hurt even more. The fact that they didn't even bother to see what I was screaming about... well, that seemed so unimportant now, because everyone has nightmares. Everybody wakes up crying sometimes, wakes up screaming and thrashing about. It's natural, right? So why would it matter? It's not like I was being attacked or anything, and I was safe and that was all that mattered.

Gods, I felt guilty.

And, maybe, just maybe, I owed Inuyasha and Miroku - the both of them, as much as it would hurt - an apology. Because I had been just as rude as they had been. I had been just as nasty and scathing and - I really had no right to expect them to give me the same liberties that they offered to one another. I just wasn't as important to them as they were to each other. They were best friends. Co-workers. Important. And me? I was just someone struggling to get into that inner-circle of friends. I was just someone attempting to figure out how to unravel the entire tapestry, pulling at the loose threads without any success.

I was someone who had no right to be there.

But regardless of whether or not I was allowed or not, I was already there, and there was nothing that could change that.

Right, so.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, ignoring the small smile playing on Miroku's lips. "I really shouldn't have - it wasn't my place and I - I mean, well, it's just that... but, no. It wasn't - I - you see -"

"You know, I'm beginning to think you failed speech proficiency while you were in school." Miroku grinned genially. Inuyasha scoffed, turning away to stare at the wall. But the anger lines that were once etched in their faces had smoothed out into something else, into something contemplative, and I knew that my apology meant something important to them.

"I was wrong," I admitted.

Inuyasha scoffed again, and I wanted to punch him right in the middle of that arrogant, disbelieving face of his.

"Now, now, Inuyasha," Miroku started, and I could tell that he was being patronizing. "It seems to have taken a lot of strength and will to overcome her pride and admit something that could have possibly brought about the next apocalypse. Surely we could spare her the embarrassment and accept her apology."

"Very funny," I growled. "Hysterical. _Hilarious._"

Miroku smiled pleasantly. "I thought so."

"Nhhh!" I started, throwing up my hands. "You are such a disgustingly, arrogant, ego-centric jerk!"

Miroku arched a bushy eyebrow. "I am inclined to point out that you are describing Inuyasha more so than me."

My temper flared.

"That's my bastard brother," Inuyasha growled, extremely offended.

"Didn't know you even knew the meaning of the word," I growled out, glaring at him. "Hopefully trying to figure out what it was didn't make you burst any brain cells or anything."

"No, of course not," Miroku said jovially. "But you look like you're about to burst a blood vessel. I wasn't aware you were such a morning person."

I glared at him, trying my hardest to decapitate him with my eyes.

"I also wasn't aware that you were so hopelessly immature."

"I am not immature!" I retorted, offended. Miroku smiled calmly, and Inuyasha scoffed, _once again_, and I was beginning to think that that was his repsonse when he couldn't think of anything witty or cutting or cruel to say to me.

"Arrogant, ego-centric jerk?"

I suddenly deflated.

Because, truthfully, he had a point. I was being entirely... well, that is to say, just a _tad_ bit immature, but nothing entirely... over the top. But then again, my mother did say that using big words didn't mean you were mature; it just meant that you were a little girl trying her hardest to be mature and failing miserably. In a word: fool.

I. Was. A. Fool.

And, somehow, I just knew that I was going to continually be making a fool out of myself throughout the entire time I stayed with them, however long that would be.

Right. Okay. Time to change that.

"Sorry!"

Inuyasha looked at me, his face twisted into something... unreal. It was almost like he wanted to laugh, but was trying to smother that laughter, not just because he didn't want to laugh at me, but because the thought of laughing was a distant and foreign concept to him, one that was... well, disgusting.

So, I reached out to touch him. But as soon as I did, Miroku's reached out and grabbed mine. His eyes were so dark and full of anger. His grip on my fingers was painful, and I wanted to pull away, but he kept his hands tight around mine, squeezing my fingers together.

"That's cheating," he said, his voice low. And suddenly, I was being tugged from the burning, scorching atmosphere and thrown in a freezing, lake of ice water. Millions of pinpricks were dancing across my body, making me scream out in pain as it burned and burned and _burned._ My lungs were burning, and I was sinking, trying to breathe, but something was pulled tight against my throat, cutting into my flesh, making my eyes water through the torture. I tried to scream, but everytime I opened my mouth, icy water continued to drown me, and I couldn't breathe and I wanted to, desperately, so _desperately._

_I just want to live._

_But you can't. You aren't allowed to live. You're already dead._

And then someone was whispering to me, shaking me, and I opened my eyes. The world around me was a blur; I could feel something wet on my face, and it took me a second to understand that they were tears. There was something hot and wet all around me, causing goosebumps to rise up on my skin. Groggily, I wiped the tears away from my eyes, and I tried to sit up, tried to look around, but as soon as I did, pain shot through my back, causing me to scream out in agony.

Something cool and gentle gripped my hand as I thrashed about in pain, and I turned, more tears streaming down my face, the pain rippling across my back.

"_Shhh, shhh. You'll be all right, soon. Don't worry."_

I didn't recognize the voice, didn't understand who it was that was currently leaning over me, trying to dull the fierce pain on my back. I wanted to lay back and cry. I wanted to forget the pain, forget that voice, forget those damned, soft gentle fingers that were currently gliding over my cheeks, wiping away at the tears. There were footsteps, and they were walking towards me. But I didn't care. I wanted to forget it. I didn't want this excruciating pain, this painful touch upon my skin, or the agonizing sound of someone coming closer, closer - _so damned close_ -

_"Did you call an ambulance?"_

_"Yes." _It was hissed out, as though it pained that person to say it, and distantly, I recognized the voice. I knew who that person was. _"They're on their fucking way."_

_"That's all I wanted to know. There was no need to get so offended-"_

_"What the fuck? It's not like I'm just going to leave the bastard here to bleed to fucking death! He's my friend, damn it!"_

I blinked through the haze, through the pain, and something strange was currently dancing around my mind, something that was hiding in the shadows, begging to be realized. Begging to be noticed. Something... something wasn't _right._

I moved again, and the pain was shooting up my back, causing me to whimper in pain. I could feel that gentle touch pushing me down onto the ground again. I could taste the metallic taste of my own blood, the salt of my own tears, and I just wanted to the pain to disappear. I wanted to stop crying. To stop bleeding. To stop hearing their voices.

_"I want to die."_

"What the fuck was that!"

I blinked and was suddenly flung forward. My shin connected with something hard, something blunt, and I let out a small yell of pain before I fell to the floor, the throbbing of my shin blocking out all common sense.

I could hear Inuyasha yelling, cursing, and I tried to struggle through the haze, tried to figure out what exactly it was that was going on.

I let out a harsh, raspy breath.

The pain in my shin dulled, and for a second, I didn't know why I was suddenly lying on the floor, wondering why my legs felt warm. Groaning, I sat up, half expecting my back to suddenly burn with a fierce aching pain, but instead, all I saw was Inuyasha glaring at Miroku darkly, while Miroku glared at me. And that was when I knew that something had happened that shouldn't have happened. Something had occured in between my reaching out to touch Inuyasha, to my hitting the edge of the chair but... I just didn't know what it was.

I stood up shakily.

"What the hell was that?" Inuyasha spat, his voice deceptively quiet. Miroku turned to him, that same dark expression in his eyes, one that was a mixture of anger, hate, despair, and hopelessness.

"I haven't the faintest," Miroku said dismissively, giving me one last glance before turning around and leaving the room. Inuyasha swore violently, sparing me one disgusted and angry look before following Miroku, obviously not satisified with what had happened.

I felt guilty. And responsible.

It seemed like ever since I appeared, I've been the catalyst for everyone getting angry at one another. For everyone to decide that suddenly, they couldn't get along with one another. It had happened the other day with Sango. She had gotten angry at both Inuyasha and Miroku, wanting to understand why they were being so cold and cruel. Inuyasha had left her alone after that, storming back into the store to fume and pout on his own. Then, shortly after, Sango came storming back into the store, after having a few words with Miroku, and it was apparent that she, too, was angry. And now - now I've caused even more discord among the three of them, although I suppose it doesn't really involve Sango. But... but if I were to tell her what had happened, if I were to tell her that I felt as though I were drowning and being choked at the same time, while standing completely still... if I were to tell her that I had heard people's _voices_ having a conversation that I was a part of but really wasn't...

She would wonder what it was that they had done to me. She would have wondered what they had said, or what type of traumatic experience they had put me through, simply because I was being slightly delusional. And, ultimately, she would blame them. But, somehow, I think that even if they did explain to her what happened, they would be even more offended with her interrogation because... well, because ultimately, friends are supposed to trust one another. And, if Sango were to come to my defense, the trust that was still standing strong bewtween the three of them might crumble. Might disappear. But then, if that were the case, then that trust wasn't really that strong to begin with.

I desperately wanted to apologize.

But, instead, I picked up Inuyasha's (or Miroku's, I wasn't entirely sure) keys out of the small glass bowl in the living room and walked into the tiny foyer, needing to leave. I slipped into my shoes quickly, sending a look over my shoulder to make sure that no one was watching me leave, and I walked out of the house, locking the door behind me. It felt strange, locking up when there were people in the house, but at the current rate I was going, if I made one simple little mistake, I knew I was going to have the door slammed into my face once again.

I couldn't help but laugh at the irony, and stepped off the porch.

I don't know how long I walked. I don't how long I thought about everything. It seemed like such a blur, crossing the streets, pushing my way past all of the people, but even as I did this, the panic attack that I suffered from earlier on didn't seem to inhibit me from doing anything. I was able to walk freely through the crowd; I was able to pretend like nothing had happened, like nothing was going to happen. But, most importantly, I didn't break down.

And for a second, I was proud of myself. But then I remembered drowning, I remembered the pain in my back, and I couldn't help but wonder what it had been all about. Certainly it was... something, and it was relevant. Otherwise Inuyasha and Miroku wouldn't have been so offended. But then again, they could have been upset over something completely different. Everything had been such a haze, I didn't know what to think. I didn't know what to feel.

But at the moment, I felt as though I was in over my head, and that there was something that definitely needed to be done about it.

Only... I didn't know what that was.

I felt someone push against my shoulder, and dazed, I looked up, my eyes suddenly widening as I looked at where I was.

Sango's.

Or, her part of town, at least.

It surprised me, having walked here. It was as though it was instinctive, coming here, and I couldn't help but wonder at how good our friendship was... or, rather, how good I wanted our friendship to be, if I were the one instinctively walking over towards her home.

Sighing, I continued forward, until I reached her house, nervously knocking on the door.

I just hoped she was home.

It took a second, but I heard steps and then her door opened.

"Er, hi."

I stared. "Uhm, I think I may have the wrong house. I'm sorry for disturbing you."

The teenager at the door nodded absently, glancing over his shoulder before turning towards me, watching carefully. "Who are you looking for?"

"Sango."

The boy nodded, before swinging the door opened, motioning over his shoulder. "This is the right house. She's in the kitchen, cleaning dishes."

I nodded, before stepping in, uneasy and uncertain. This boy he - he didn't look anything like Sango, to be completely honest. Except for the hair. It had that samesilky look that Sango's had. I shifted uncomfortably, watching him as he watched me. His eyes were extremely dark, as though a violent secret was hidden somewhere within their depths, not wanting to be released. I think he must have noticed the way I lingered on his eyes, because his shifted slightly, turning his head away from me so that I couldn't look at him. He must have been as uncomfortable with me watching him as I was when he watched me.

"You can take off your shoes, you know," he said quietly. He plunged his hands into the pockets of his jeans, and I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable. So I did. Inuyasha's keys jingled in my pocket as I toed off my shoes, and the sound seemed to pull him out of his quiet observation of me. (Rather, it was more of an avoidance of my gaze, but he was still watching me from the corner of his eyes, as though I was some rare and mysterious puzzle that he needed to pick apart. It's kinda weird and creepy now that I think about it.)

"I'm Higurashi Kagome."

He nodded, giving me any extremely strange glance. "I'm Kohaku, Sango's younger brother."

I smiled, suddenly feeling a lot more comfortable.

"Oh! Sango never told me she had a little brother."

That had to be the wrong thing to say because the look on his face suddenly became blank, devoid of any signs of emotions, and his shoulders tensed. He looked at me for a long time, the silence was almost defeaning, and through it, I could hear the sound of running water and dishes clanking together. Apparently Sango was unaware of the fact that I was there, and it made me feel as though I were intruding.

"Of course," he said. His eyes turned glassy for a second, as though he were going to cry, but instead, he moved away, motioning for me to follow him. "Sango doesn't really like to talk about me."

I tried not to snort in disbelief. "Well, why not? I don't see why she wouldn't be happy to talk about you. Unless she's ashamed of you but... she doesn't seem like the type -"

"Sango doesn't like to talk about a lot of things." Kohaku looked as though he were trying not to start breaking things in a fit of rage. "How old are you?"

I blinked at the sudden change of subject. "Uhm, sixteen."

He nodded, a strange smile appearing on his face. "I'm fourteen."

The small talk was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable, and I was wondering at his need to have something more than silence. I sat down in the armchair that Sango sat me in the first day I came here, and ironically, I saw Miroku's blanket folded neatly at the end the chair. I had almost forgotten that we hadn't given it back yet. Rolling my shoulders, I leaned back into the chair, trying my hardest to get comfortable, but just being in Kohaku's presence made me feel as though I were unwelcome and intruding. It was almost exactly like how Miroku and Inuyasha made me feel.

Thinking of them made me think of what was possibly going through their heads when they finally realized that I wasn't there. At first I thought that, maybe, they were happy that I wasn't there. Because, they really never wanted me to live there in the first place. After all, when I suggested it, Miroku choked violently, almost needing the Heimlich maneuver and Inuyasha started spitting and cussing, like he always did. Now that I think about it, the situation was almost comical and extremely, extremely unrealistic. But Inuyasha accepted me anyways, despite his first protests. I wonder... even though he doesn't care about me, even though he doesn't like me, if he really _needs_ me and whether or not he _knows_ that he needs me.

I mean, he does have Sango. He does have Miroku. But they have most likely been through so many things together that they forgot that, instead of making one another stronger, they respected one another's needs for silence, to keep things locked inside. And maybe, just maybe, that was where they made their first mistake. They weren't... nosy enough. They didn't attempt to figure out if there was another, healthier way for them to work through everything.

It was uncomfortable, thinking that they would have done something wrong. And I suppose it was really Kohaku that helped me figure this out. The way he clammed up when I mentioned that Sango didn't tell me anything about him... he might have learned that from Sango. Although she was a lot more comfortable with me than the other two were, she still remained silent, kept things inside instead of expressing it, and that was when she made her first mistake. It was where they all made their mistakes. But, then again, perhaps they were so immersed in their own problems that they weren't able to help when other people were having problems.

My heart suddenly ached for them.

I sighed, giving my complete attention to Kohaku. He was simply sitting there, watching as I stared into space, a strange expression on his face. In the kitchen, the water turned off, and I could one more dish being put into place.

"Kohaku," Sango called out, moving into the living room. She looked at him for a second, before turning to look at me, an expression of surprise on her face.

"Oh! Kagome! I didn't expect to see you here."

I smiled, feeling somewhat more uncomfortable. "I arrived about five minutes ago."

Sango nodded absently, turning her attention towards her brother. "Why didn't you let me know she was here? I wouldn't have kept her waiting otherwise."

"You were cleaning," Kohaku said simply.

The expression on Sango's face turned sour. "Kohaku-"

"It's not his fault, Sango," I interrupted, regretting it as soon as both of them turned towards me, glaring. "I... uhm... well... that is to say..."

"Kagome-"

"I was just talking to him. I didn't mind waiting. Besides, your brother is really nice." Kohaku looked at me, surprised. It was very obvious that he had been anything but nice, but the truth was, he hadn't been mean either. Of course, he did make me uncomfortable, and it was obvious that he did it on purpose but at the same time... I rubbed my temples, my head hurting from attempting to psychoanalyze everybody. "Howcome you never told me you had a brother?"

Sango flinched, as though she had been slapped.

"It - well, at the time, you weren't exactly asking me about my family, Kagome. You were more worried about Inuyasha and-"

"I'm sorry, Sango." I rubbed at my eyes. "I didn't mean to offend you."

Sango sighed, giving her younger brother a look. "It doesn't matter."

Kohaku tensed, and I knew that was the wrong thing for Sango to say.

"But it seems to upset him..."

"You must be mistaken," Sango started, the words spilling out of her mouth quickly. "He's perfectly fine. He's okay. It doesn't matter and he isn't upset, okay? So don't worry about it."

A moment of silence passed.

"I'm going to my room," Kohaku murmured, and his fists were clenched at his sides. I couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, Kohaku was angier than Sango made him out to be.

This morning just seemed to be getting worse and worse.

The sound of a door slamming resonated throughout the house, and I wondered, for a second, whether or not these two got angry at each other over horribly misplaced words on a regular basis.

Sango huffed in annoyance, glaring fiercely at me. She threw herself down onto her couch, her face buried into the cushions, and let out a frustrated scream, one that made me doubt her sanity. After a moment of silence, Sango pushed herself up into a sitting position and stared, carefully looking me up and down.

"You look good." The sarcasm was apparent and I couldn't help but smile weakly, knowing that dumping my problems onto her shoulders would just make everything worse. "What did you need?"

I shrugged. "Inuyasha and Miroku are really angry at me right now."

Sango sighed and rubbed her forehead, as though expecting me to say something like that. "What happened this time?"

I leaned back into the chair, glancing towards the hall that Kohaku disappeared into. Sango seemed to understand what was on my mind, so she motioned for me to follow her. We walked through the kitchen, which was extremely sparse and spotless. There were small green hand towels hanging from the handle on the ovendoor, with a cute little message that said _"Kiss the cook."_ I grinned at the thought of what certain people might actually do if they saw Sango carrying around a towel that had that message written across it. Or, even if, it was an apron. She had one hanging up against the pantry door, but I doubted that she ever put it on. It just struck me as something weird that wouldn't fit into her character.

Sango slid open the patio door, and the both of us walked out. She slid the door closed behind me, and we both took a seat on the cement, leaning against the glass. The sun was warm and comforting, and the scene was nice. It was almost like we were really good friends, just spending a relaxing moment together. But as soon as I let her know what I saw, what happened, that serenity would be shattered like glass against stone.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, just looking out over the street before Sango turned to me, her expression dark.

"Kagome-"

"They never told me that Inuyasha was a morning person." Sango managed a weak smile at my obvious sarcasm, and I couldn't help but sigh. "I only wanted to talk to him. But then he was just being _rude_, you see, and I kind of snapped at them because... well, you know, I just don't like it when people are rude to me. It makes me so mad and then, if that person gets to be stubborn and nasty... I can be just as equally bad as them. It's like, all this time of having everything just be... repressed, it all just suddenly explodes and I don't really know what to do."

Sango looked at me as though I had grown another head. "You're not making any sense, Kagome."

I felt my face get hot. Nodding, I turned away from her and stared back over the street, watching as cars drove by. Silence descended back over us once again, and we both stared at the street, the both us lost in our own thoughts. And as I sat there, a cold, feeling of desperation came over me, made me feel as though I were drowning. My breath was coming out in shallow puffs; my palms were suddenly sweaty, and I knew I was anxious.

I knew I felt guilty.

It was Miroku's secret, right? Of seeing someone die, of seeing them bleed to death. And even though I had seen it, it really wasn't _meant_ for me to see. We had been talking about _my_ nightmares, about the way that I was wrong for assuming that they actually cared about me. But then... but even if they didn't, they still had the decency to _ask_ me about it, even if the method that they went about it was somewhat debatable. They still _asked_, even though they didn't offer immediate comfort. And maybe... maybe that was the only way that they knew how to go about it. Maybe it was the only way they felt safe; it was the only way they knew how to show their concern without drawing me even farther into their little circle.

They were protecting themselves.

But, did that mean that that was what Miroku dreamt about at night? Did he dream of people drowning and dying, night after night? Did he wake up screaming, delusional, covered in blood?

I didn't want to believe it at first. I wanted to pretend that none of it happened that way... that it was just a painful memory, one that somehow sprang to the front of his mind because of what we were talking about. But at the same time...

Sango cleared her throat purposefully, and I turned towards her, noticing the strange look on her face.

"Are you going to sit there daydreaming all day?"

I shook my head. "I'm... I'm sorry Sango." I smiled at her, and by the look on her face, I could she knew what was coming. We stared at each other for a second, and I smiled even wider, turning back towards the street. "How long have you known Inuyasha and Miroku?"

Sango let out a huff of frustration. "Since highschool. Second year."

"What kind of things did you guys like to do?"

"We just hung out. Caused trouble. Inuyasha was always getting into fights with everyone. Miroku was considered a playboy... he never really had a girlfriend, but he did have a lot of girls that he fooled around with. And I was just... the girl that kept both of them in check. Of course, it was more Miroku than anything. Everyone always thought that I had some sort of... _feelings_ for that pervert." Sango spat out the word feelings like it was something disgusting. Then, suddenly, a fond look appeared on her face. "We were all really lucky that we made it into the same University. We didn't think we could, you know? But we managed. Inuyasha and I immediately got our degrees... I don't know what caused him to make him want to study law and everything, but he did. Miroku dragged his feet for a while. But pretty soon... soon he's going to realize what it is he wants."

I nodded absently. "I think that... that maybe he already knows what he wants," I murmured. Sango gave me a slightly startled look. I felt my face get hot and looked away, pretending like I didn't know what the she was looking at me like that for.

"How - how long has Inuyasha been smoking?"

Sango's eyes narrowed suspiciously, but she continued on, despite the hasty change of topic.

"I think he started when he was in junior high. I'm not entirely sure. It had to be around the time his parents started having all those problems..." Sango's voice faded away, and I watched her closely. She seemed to be contemplating something, before she gave me a small, appreciative smile.

"You know," she murmured conspiratorially. "There was this one time, during our first year of high school, when Inuyasha and Miroku almost got caught skipping class. It was before I was friends with them of course but... Miroku was tailing after me, trying to convince me to _hang out_ and I was telling him no. Inuyasha was always glaring at me about the fact that his best friend found me more interesting than him." I tried my hardest not to laugh uncontrollably. "I was late to school that day, and I was still mad at Miroku for embarrassing me in front of the _entire_ class the day before." At my confused look, she decided to elaborate.

"He insinuated that the both of us were having sex. The teacher was so angry... but I caught them dunking inside of a closet to ditch one of the teachers, and I... well... I just saw my chance to get even with them." A slightly deranged look came over Sango's face, and I scooted away from her, half expecting her to start cackling wildly. "So I locked them in. They weren't found until lunch hour, when some of the other students went to get the cleaning supplies. They both just toppled out..." Sango started laughing uncontrollably, and I couldn't help but giggle at their expense. After all, the thought of Inuyasha and Miroku getting stuck in a cleaning closet? The simple picture that image presented was just too hilarious. I couldn't help but be thankful that none of my friends ever did something that cruel to me. Of course, they had always found it necessary to thrust me into embarrassing situations but... those were only romantic situations. Ones that I didn't have to deal with unless they wanted me to go out with someone I wasn't exactly fond of.

" - spent weeks dealing with jibes about finally coming out of the closet."

I blinked and turned to Sango, grinning happily. "Do they know it was you that did it?"

"Oh yes." Sango nodded. "They almost got into a lot of trouble, but I felt guilty about it. So I told our teacher that I locked them in the closet. I got into a bunch of trouble for it, and after that, rumors were going around about a crazed girl that ran around beating up boys, molesting them, and throwing them into closets. Of course, everyone disregarded the fact that Inuyasha and Miroku were both fully clothed when they fell out of that closet but... rumors are rumors. Inuyasha and Miroku spent the rest of the year harrassing me relentlessly. It was finally during second year when I beat the crap out of them - those two know how to hold a grudge," Sango paused thoughtfully. "Well, it's more Inuyasha knows how to hold a grudge. Miroku had one, but he was coming after me more for the fact that he wanted someone else to make out with... he gets bored fast, you see."

I grinned at her. "So they became your friends after you beat them up?"

Sango shook her head. "Inuyasha was really sulky and pouty after I beat him up. Miroku only became more determined. It was after about a month of them following me around, Inuyasha for a _"rematch"_, of all things, and Miroku just because he was being genial. It was when I realized that I was hanging out with them almost every day... running into them before school, eating lunch with them, passing notes with them during classes, getting escorted home, and finally hanging out on weekends... it happened quick, you know? I didn't really expect it. But after I realized that I was spending all that time with them, we were friends. I confronted them about it, but Inuyasha just scoffed and scowled, and Miroku just smiled - you know that really annoying one he has?"

"The one were it looks like he knows something that you don't?"

"Yes! I hate that smile with the passion of a thousand burning suns..." Sango grumbled somewhat incoherantly before turning back towards me, smiling fondly. "Well, he just smiled and said 'I always knew you couldn't resist my devestatingly alluring charm'. I punched him after that, Inuyasha laughed insanely, and we kind of just went on our way." Sango shrugged after this, looking thoughtfully out towards the street.

Silence seemed to descend upon both us, and we just sat there, completely still, staring out at nothing. I couldn't help but wonder what exactly was going through Sango's mind at that moment. Was she happy at that time? Was she having as much problems as it seemed she was having now? I thought about the conversation that Kohaku and I shared earlier about Sango not liking to talk about him. I thought about how Sango was so obviously dismissive of her brother. And then... then I thought about how when, the first night I showed up at her house, I never saw Kohaku that morning, not even once. It was strange now that I thought about it, and although it _was_ Saturday...

"Why didn't I see Kohaku when I was here that first day?"

Sango flinched, and turned to me, trying her hardest to hide that despaired look on her face. "He lives with my parents. He's just visiting for the weekend."

"So why isn't he at school? Don't they have club meetings today, or something?"

Sango shrugged. "I'm not sure. I know that I did when I was in school but... when he visits he usually just locks himself in his room. I'm surprised he even answered the door for you."

"So why don't you just ask him?"

"Because it's not my place," Sango retorted, turning away from me. "If Kohaku doesn't want to go to school I'm not going to force him to. Besides, I don't think he's in any clubs."

"They still have half a day of school to attend, don't they?"

Sango glared at me, obviously irritated. "I don't know, Kagome. Why don't you go ask _him_ instead of annoying _me_ with your useless questions!"

I stared, shocked. Sango... the only time Sango ever used that irritated tone on me was when she first met me, and I... even then it hadn't had been as cruel as this time. Quickly, Sango stood and slammed open the glass door, leaving me to sit on her tiny patio by myself. About thirty seconds later, I heard another door slam and assumed it was Sango's.

I tried not to feel angry... I wanted desperately to be guilty instead. Because, when I was guilty, I could apologize much easier but - but I had done nothing wrong. I just asked about Kohaku's schooling, about whether or not he should be staying home. I was just _curious._ And, like everyone else today, Sango decided to bite my head off, just because I asked an innocent question. If I would have known that Kohaku was a taboo subject, I wouldn't have asked.

But, just like Miroku with Inuyasha and his morning disability, Sango never decided to warn me. Sango never even decided to mention that talking about or, even, being in the presence of Kohaku made her cranky and irritable. I mean, really! Was it really going to kill everyone to just let me know one little useful piece of information!

I growled in frustration, picking up a stray rock and hurdled it into the street. It bounced against the cement and sprung back up, hitting the backdoor of a passing car. The driver tried to see what caused it, but I quickly darted into the house, not wanting to get into anymore trouble than I was already in.

Of course, this day... it just _had_ to be complete and utter _hell._

Stupid, arrogant recluses and their stupid, emotional disabilities.

They always made life worse than it already was.

I shut the glass door behind me.

"Hey."

I jumped, whirling quickly around, my eyes wide as I stared at the boy in front of me. What was it about him that made me so... so nervous?

"I'm sorry about Sango. But I did warn you. She doesn't like to talk about me."

I blinked, thrown off guard with his... lack of feeling behind the apology.

"It's - really, it's not a problem. I just can't seem to not overstep my boundaries today."

Kohaku shrugged carelessly.

"I don't go to school because I don't like it."

I stared at him in confusion.

Kohaku continued on, as though he didn't care that I didn't understand. "The other students... they don't really like me. Well, except for this one kid... he's pretty nice. But he's really quiet. Everyone always makes fun of him, they make it out to seem like the reason why he's quiet is because he thinks he's too good for the rest of them but... they do the same thing to me. We're both in a different class, but I really don't like talking much either -"

"You seem to be doing a lot of it right now."

Kohaku ignored my obvious sarcasm. "They're all idiots."

"Who?" I fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

"The other students."

I nodded. "You really aren't a people person, are you?"

Kohaku shook his head. "I like people. There are some that are nice... you for example. I really like you." His face flushed at that obvious declaration, and I couldn't help but notice how the freckles across his nose became darker as his cheeks became redder. "But other people are idiots. I don't like my sister's friends, much."

"Yes," I added, smiling at him. "They're both jerks."

Kohaku opened his mouth, as though to agree with me, but was cut off when the phone rang. We both stared at it, as though it was some sort of alien creature that was from a distant planet. It rang twice more before Kohaku finally forced himself out of his stupor and picked up, answering politely.

"Shitoyaka residence, how may I help you?"

He remained quiet, but his expression turned sour, as though he had been forced to swallow a glass of straight lemon juice. I just watched as he nodded, making noncommitical noises. About a minute passed of nothing but small, incoherant sentences, most of them coming from Kohaku before he thrust the phone at me roughly.

"They're asking for Sango."

I stared at him.

Kohaku licked his lips and rolled his eyes. "Miroku is asking for Sango," he said it slowly, as though he were speaking to an idiotic child. I snatched the phone away irritably.

"Miroku?"

There was a pause on the other end, and then a sigh. I had a feeling like I wasn't the one he wanted to be talking to.

"Kagome," he acknowledged politely, although his voice was somewhat strained. "Is Sango available?"

"I would go and see but... well... Sango - you see there was this thing and-"

I ignored the strange look that Kohaku gave me before he turned around and left the room, leaving me to try and explain to Miroku on my own.

"So I can understand, Kagome."

I sighed. "She's angry at me right now."

The silence at the other end was confirmation enough.

I.

Was.

A.

Fool.

And Miroku must have been surprised at the fact that I not only managed to anger Sango, but he and Inuyasha as well. I felt even guiltier than I had felt when Miroku left the room, hating me for seeing what I saw. Hating me for being able to touch the nightmares in his mind... the feeling of blood and voices and anger and -

" - not surprising."

I blinked, having missed everything that Miroku had said.

"Yes, well, I'm so _sorry_ everyone decided to tell me that she had a brother complex," I bit out, the sarcasm extremely apparent.

"Of course, since it's our responsibility to let you in on every little secret of our lives, Kagome."

I sat down at Sango's kitchen table, knocking my knuckles against it in irriation.

"You know, maybe if you actually decided to help me instead of hinder me, people wouldn't get their feelings hurt so much."

"I'm afraid that only one who is getting their feelings hurt is you, Kagome." I hated the way he said my name. I hated the way he sounded so patronizing so... so cruel. I froze, remaining completely silent. I waited, listening as he continued to breathe softly, waiting for _me_ to respond to that comment. Waiting for me to be just as cruel and rude as he had been. Waiting... waiting for me to slip up. Waiting for me to give up.

"Yes," I whispered. "It does hurt my feelings, getting brushed off. Getting snapped at. I guess... I guess that I shouldn't have expected it to get easier. Even though someone did tell that it would get easier from here... I suppose I'm just stupid for thinking it could be easier than this."

Miroku remained oddly silent for a few seconds, as though he couldn't believe that I had just said something so... mature. I was actually pretty proud of myself, after all, Miroku was the one who had called me immature earlier, and it felt somewhat good to be admitting that I was just... a tiny bit... immature. And it also made his point moot. After all, only fools couldn't admit when they were wrong, and I seemed to be doing nothing but that all day. Making a fool of myself, then turning around and admitting that I had been wrong. But at the same time, I wasn't wrong for prying. And despite the fact that I kept taking two steps forward and three steps back, I was still _getting_ somewhere, despite how slow the process was taking and...

And I was proud of myself.

I let out a small laugh of happiness, focusing on the sliding glass door and the street beyond.

"You must be proud of yourself," Miroku said finally. I nodded, but realized that he couldn't see me.

"Yes," I answered, smiling. "But pretty soon, you're going to be the ones crying, not me."

"Be still, oh fragile heart," Miroku mumbled sarcastically.

I stifled a giggle.

"So," I started conversationally.

"Yes?"

"How long was it before you finally came out of the closet?"

Miroku remained silent for a moment, and then let out a growl of frustration.

"_Women._"

Miroku hung up on me two seconds later.

I giggled uncontrollably.

Seconds later, Kohaku came back into the room, and he was watching me warily.

"Kagome."

"Yes?"

"Would you like me to escort you home?"

I smiled. "Sure."

Kohaku nodded, smiling slightly, and I couldn't help but notice how shy he seemed. It was surprising, seeing this sort of change in him, considering how outgoing and rough his sister was. Sango seemed to have a brutal personality, while Kohaku, although he got upset easily, seemed to have a kind, quiet one. Although I'm sure Sango could be tight lipped if she really wanted to be but... I couldn't see her smiling as kindly as Kohaku was.

I handed Kohaku the phone, and walked to the foyer to put my shoes on. Inuyasha's keys jingled in my pocket, and I couldn't help but wonder if they realized whether I stole them or not. I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the look on Inuyasha's face when he finally found out that I had taken some of his possessions.

"Did you let Sango know where you were going?" I asked as Kohaku locked the door behind him.

"She'll know where to find me," he answered simply.

We both walked together in silence, and I found it surprising how much more at ease I was whenever I was surrounded by people as opposed to simply walking one on one with Kohaku. It was just... strange. There was no other way that I could put it. He didn't seem like the type of person one could make friends with. He seemed like the type to notice you one minute and forget you the next. But it wasn't in that normal snobbish way that most people were accustomed to. It was just... silently.

I fiddled with the hem of my shirt absently.

The relationship between Kohaku and Sango was really... _different_. I've never seen a brother or a sister who seemed to be at odds with one another the way that Sango and Kohaku were. I mean, there was a relationship there but... they didn't seem to argue the way Souta and I used to. They didn't seem to chase one another around the house, threatening death until a parent stepped in but... even _if_ Sango was an adult now, I couldn't help but wonder _why_ they seemed to totally disregard one another. Kohaku was fourteen. He seemed to be the right age where, even though he was _maturing_, he was still annoying and only cared about video games (and girls). I wonder if Souta still acted like that.

My emotions felt like they were clouding over at the thought of my younger brother, but there really was nothing I could do about it. If I did attempt to go and see them... I hated this the most. I could handle Inuyasha and Miroku and Sango being so completely mean to me. I could handle them being rude and inconsiderate jerks. I could _handle_ it.

But not being able to see my family again?

Not being able to hang around my brother, who liked calling me names? Not being able to be around my mother, who supported me in anything? Not being able to be around my grandfather, who eventually wanted me to take over the shrine? It was like a stab in my heart. It was painful, horrific. I felt like I was drowning - like waves were crashing all around me and I was too weak to pull myself free from the whirlpool of anxiety and the pain and -

It just wasn't _fair._

Was this supposed to be some kind of test? Did all Angels go through this sort of indecision? This... this pain?

For one, very short moment, I wanted to clutch at my heart because it was so very hard not to just take off down the street and run towards the shrine but...

I wasn't ready to give up.

My mother would have been proud of me, knowing that I gained my wings. My brother - he would think it was so _cool_ being able to have Wings... he would probably coerce me into seeing if I could fly, even though that's not what they were for. They were a symbol of achievement, of acceptance. Acceptance of what? I really didn't know but... it was nice, regardless of everything that was going on. It was nice, knowing that I could be around everyone even though I wasn't really... _real._ It was... it was nice.

I smiled. Next to me, Kohaku was staring at me strangely, as though he had never seen me in his life, but I could only smile wider.

It was nice. And I needed to cherish the time that I was going to spend here. I needed to cherish it more than anything. And even though I wasn't real, even though I hated the fact that I was just some recreation of something... lesser. Something imperfect I think... even now, I wasn't perfect. And maybe, that's why everything was so hard. Because I had expected it to _be_ perfect. I expected it to be easy.

Grandpa always told me that I was too naive. My old friends... they did the same.

Sighing, I glanced towards Kohaku, and something clicked.

"I thought you didn't like Inuyasha and Miroku."

Kohaku blushed. "I don't. I just... I don't want to be there anymore."

"Why not?"

Kohaku looked uncomfortable, and we stopped at a crosswalk. He fidgeted for a moment, looking back and forth at the people around us. Then, he grabbed my arm and pulled me around the corner, and pushed me into a small arcade. He glanced around frantically, as though afraid, and then pulled me into a corner.

"Kohaku?"

"Sango... Sango _hates_ me."

I blinked, extremely confused. "Kohaku?"

"She _hates_ me."

I shook my head. "You're her brother. Why would she hate you?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "I can't... I can't remember what happened. I don't remember a lot of things, and it makes her hate me."

I could only stare at him, my eyes wide.

"At first, I couldn't even remember her. She was so sad, and I hated seeing her cry. I didn't know who she was, but she made me so sad. They sent me to a doctor just to make sure there weren't any problems and -"

"Kohaku -"

"Shut up!" He hissed, and glared at me. "You can't tell anyone. Promise."

I stared at him.

"_Promise,_" he insisted. I nodded.

"Why do you go and visit her if she hates you?"

Kohaku shrugged. "Mom and Dad hate me more."

I gasped. "You ran away from home!"

A group of girls walked passed both of us and giggled, hiding their blushing faces behind their hands. Kohaku looked torn between either blushing or getting offended - I wasn't entirely sure. I felt like screaming at the girls that it wasn't what they thought.

_Perverts._

"Yes. I run away from home a lot."

"Oh." There was a slight pause and we both stared at each other, Kohaku uncomfortable, and me confused. Why would his family hate him? It wasn't like it was his fault he couldn't remember things, wasn't it? There had to be a reason why - maybe an accident? It would make sense if that was what happened but... but why would he trust me with this? He seemed so guarded and despondent earlier - as though he were trying to pick me apart and now - now he was so open and... and _trusting._ It was like this huge, strange transformation and... Gods, this was so difficult. I tugged on my hair in frustration, then looked at Kohaku. "Why did you tell me?"

Kohaku shrugged, and stepped out of the corner.

"I really like you," he answered quietly. "Plus you remind me of this boy I know."

I was confused.

"You... you both have the same eyes."

My eyes widened slightly. "Is he your friend?"

Kohaku shook his head. "He stopped talking to people a long time ago. He's a year under me, but I remember him from elementary school. He was really happy, but then he just became really sad. He cries sometimes, when he thinks no one is looking."

"Do you know what happened to him?"

Kohaku gave me an extremely long glance then, and his eyes were oddly dark. We both stepped out of the arcade, and walked down the street. It wasn't until we were walking through the park when Kohaku stopped and sat down on a bench, staring out at the other people milling around. We were silent for another moment, just waiting, before Kohaku finally spoke again.

"His sister died."

My heart plummeted.

"What's his name?"

Kohaku gave me another strange look, then stood and began walking down through the park. I stared at his back for a moment, before catching up to him.

"We should be at Inuyasha's soon, right?"

"Yeah," I answered quietly, uncertainly.

We remained silent the rest of the way to Inuyasha's, and for that, I was thankful.

When we finally arrived at Inuyasha's, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, toeing off my shoes before walking into the living room. Inuyasha was sitting down on the couch, gloomily flipping through channels and made some rude off-handed comment when he saw me. My temper flared, as he probably expected it to. Miroku was reading, and only spared me a glance before moving towards Kohaku, who was staring blankly at a wall. His eyes narrowed as soon as he saw Kohaku, and I had a feeling that he was going to say something rude.

But I glared at Miroku for all I was worth, and as though feeling my gaze on him, he turned towards me and arched a bushy eyebrow.

I smiled at him.

"Inuyasha," I said, my voice sugary sweet. He turned towards me slowly, his amber eyes dark.

"_What?_"

I tossed his keys to him. "I heard the most interesting story today, you know."

I could see Miroku frown, as though anticipating what I was going to say, so I picked up a pillow and chucked it at him. Kohaku looked vaguely amused, and I fixated my attention completely on Inuyasha, noting the suspicious look in his eyes.

"Miroku hides it well, you know." At this, Miroku made a strangled noise.

"Ah, Kagome-"

"_And,_" I said, raising my voice. "I never would have guessed!"

Inuyasha stared at me. "What the hell are you babbling about?"

"When you finally came out of the closet," I deadpanned.

"_Kagome,_" Miroku said, his voice deadly quiet. I stared at Inuyasha, watching as he worked it out in his head. At first there was blankness, then confusion, then understanding, embarassment, and finally, anger.

"She's so fucking dead!" Inuyasha snarled, jumping to his feet. "I'm not gay!"

I giggled, then tried my hardest to keep all emotion from my face. "I never said you were."

Inuyasha scowled at me.

"She merely told me the story about when you two came out of the closet."

His face became strangely blank.

"She also told me about how she ended up beating you two up." Inuyasha scowled even harder. "I only hope that I can hear more. It's nice having fun times that you can look back on and talk about with your friends."

The anger drained from both Inuyasha and Miroku immediately.

"You're all lucky, you know," I whispered suddenly, causing them to turn towards me. Miroku looked oddly uncomfortable, as though he knew what was about to happen, but I ignored it. I don't know how to explain the sudden emotion that came over me but... I felt like I was drowning. "At least you have people to share those happy memories with. Even if you can't - _don't_ want to remember them."

I felt oddly bitter. "I don't even have that."

I moved towards the stairs, hating the sudden tension that fell over the room. Hating the way my sudden depression seemed to be stifling everyone, but I just couldn't help it. It hurt _so much and -_

"Souta."

I froze, my eyes wide, then turned towards Kohaku. His eyes were very dark, but his face was expressionless, and his voice was quiet.

"What?"

"His name is Souta. Higurashi Souta."

My heart clenched painfully, and I dropped to the floor, tears filling my eyes.

My little brother.

_Kohaku knew my brother._

They both went to the same school and... and _they knew each other._

I could feel everything swirling around me, painfully, and for a second... for a mere second, I felt like asking Kohaku more about him, asking him to tell me everything he could - like what he's been up to, what his grades were like, how his friends were, how he knew the things he knew about him and yet -

And yet...

"_No_." Miroku said it quietly, forcefully, and I glanced up at him, my eyes widening in surprise. I opened my mouth to say something, but his eyes merely darkened.

Why was he so angry?

"It's against the rules, Kagome."

"Mir-"

"_No_."

He left the room then, and I could only stare in confusion. What... what had he meant it was against the rules? What was he talking about?

I glanced towards Inuyasha, hoping for an answer to Miroku's sudden anger, but something in eyes made me freeze. I stared for a long moment, watching as... as _something_ swirled in his eyes... something _intense_ and then... something _clicked._

_Inuyasha knew._

Whatever it was that Miroku was talking about, Inuyasha _knew._

And there was something that I knew as well.

It had been too _easy_. All of it had been _way too easy._

I frowned, and opened my mouth to ask, but the Inuyasha was looking towards Kohaku, and scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Run away from home again, brat?"

Kohaku frowned at him. "Yes."

Inuyasha spared me another glance, before he motioned for Kohaku to follow him, and they too went into the kitchen, leaving me to sit at the foot of the stairs by myself.

It caused my heart to ache a bit, knowing what I knew but - Kohaku knew. He knew that I was supposed to be dead. He knew that... that something was going on, which was why he had been watching me so much while I was over at Sango's house. Which was why he looked slightly confused about everything that had happened. And if that was the case... perhaps Miroku and Inuyasha were going to warn him about not saying a thing but... somehow, I didn't think that Kohaku would say anything anyways.

But something else was gnawing at my head. Something else was bothering me, bugging me like a fly that wouldn't stop flying around me, regardless of the fact that I was the one with the flyswatter, and they were the ones about to get squished to death.

Miroku knew the rules.

_Miroku knew the rules._ And the only way I would be able to find out _how_ he knew, would be to ask him. They were going to avoid telling me, that I knew. They were all boarded up; they kept their secrets locked up tightly, but along with figuring out what had caused them to be so... so distant, I was going to find out what it was that brought them so close together. I was going to figure out why it was, that Miroku could look at Sango with such desire, but she would merely dismiss it, even though she _knew_ he felt that way. I was going to find out what it was that made Miroku stick so close to Inuyasha... what it was that made him protect him so fiercely. I could understand Sango. Miroku... Miroku had feelings for her, and even though they were probably just feelings of lust and friendship, I could understand. But with Inuyasha... there was a strange sense of understanding there. It was a very strong friendship, and I knew that it was nothing _but_ friendship and yet...

They both _knew_ something.

But what was stranger, was the fact that Miroku knew what I had wanted. Miroku knew what I was about ask and he told me no. And, what made it worse was the fact that Inuyasha knew what Miroku was talking about. Inuyasha knew how Miroku knew and...

Despite not wanting to, I could Inuyasha wanted to tell me.

Even if it wasn't his secret to tell.

I smiled and glanced towards the kitchen, and rubbed my shoulder, feeling the slight twinge in it.

They could keep it secret for now, but I knew that I was going to find out.

Because, regardless of what they thought, they _cared_.

_About me._

The shift had started.

They just didn't know it yet.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Warning: **POV changes like crazy. Also, there are some parts that may seem like boy/boy love, but that's not what I was trying to convey there, so please, don't interpret it the wrong way. Everything that happens is really important, so thank you.

**Note: **Yes, this is rather late, but I feel no remorse. XD

-----

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CH. 8**

_-----_

He watched him.

At first he thought that it had something to do with the fact that he was vaguely curious about his friends' younger brother, or perhaps, because he wanted to understand why she had reacted the way that she did, but... but he knew that wasn't the answer. Although he could understand what it meant to lose someone precious, it hadn't really occurred to him until after she had collapsed, until after Inuyasha had escorted him into the kitchen and gave him some cake, that it all came into perspective. It wasn't until after Miroku had entered and gave him that slightly genial, enlightened look--the one that made him want to quiver in rage, and caused his blood to boil and his face to heat... _it's not healthy_, his father had once told him, _to house so many feelings of anger and resentment towards those you should respect_... but Kohaku had stopped listening to his father long ago, and now, everything seemed to keep moving in a painful, downward spiral.

Before he had even met Kagome, he couldn't help but wonder whether or not life was supposed to be so hard. Was it supposed to be filled with such bitter feelings, like resentment and hatred? Was he supposed to feel warm and safe with someone who wasn't his sister, but cold and abandoned with someone who was? He didn't think that he was supposed to hate his sister's friends... no. They took good care of them, hadn't they? Even when they knew about him, even when they knew about his sister... even... even _then_, they still took care of him, and he felt sick just thinking about it. Boys his age weren't supposed to feel so helpless, were they?

The thoughts burned his mind like embers upon his skin--they were supposed to slip slowly through his fingers, trickling out of existence, just as the memories were supposed to trickle back _in_... but memories were nothing but a dash of ink on a piece of paper. Filling diaries with dreams didn't help, either, but for some reason, he still continued. Perhaps, it had something to do with his sister, but then everything had to do with his sister. Sango had always been the focal point in his life--_"Sango called, it's her weekend to have you,_" or _"Sango's offered to take you for the week, go with her."_ And sometimes, it was even _"Stay away from Sango, she's only getting worse."_ But it was never about him, never about the pain centered somewhere in his chest, or what it felt like to stand motionless in the rain, feeling the chill sink down to his bones, making them brittle and painfully sore. It wasn't about the way he pretended to smile when he was at school, and hated to smile whenever he saw Sango, because there was nothing to smile about whenever he was around her. Instead, it was always about her pain, her guilt, her pathetic disgusting need for absolution. He had thought that it was all right to feel the horrible ache of the cold nestling comfortably into his bones, and perhaps, even the way his face burned and his head ached as he coughed up so much phlegm that there was never any left, just the horrible taste of copper and the faint taste of throw-up.

He had thought he could handle it, at one point. But writing emotions and words that made no sense... that had hurt the most, he thought, perhaps too much. So instead of feeling, he wrote dreams. Snatches of dreams that faded away before he could remember them. Dreams that stood out in a fierce, brutal clarity and stung his eyes whenever he awoke. Dreams that ached and burned the way the sun did whenever he stayed out in it too long... he felt as though he could place a hand against his own flesh, could feel the coolness of his skin, even through the sting, could see the imprint left as he pulled away. He wanted it so badly, so horribly--just an imprint. Just a thought.

He didn't ask for memories. Kohaku had a feeling they wouldn't amount to much anyways.

But he still ran away, even when he knew he had only her to go to. Only Sango.

Sango, with her long black hair and her unique burgundy brown eyes. Sango with her fake smiles and her fake laughs and her righteous anger that morphed into embarrassment and then that sickening, horrible pleasure that was somehow happiness whenever _he_ touched her. Sango with her friends and their closeness and their need to be with each other and _never apart_ because who could handle pain like that?

But then Kagome had come and shoved her way into their lives, so unethically, so unexpectedly, and his thoughts had whirred and changed and cogs weren't as dusty anymore, didn't hurt as much anymore. Dreams morphed into emotions and tiny strands of reality that burned crimson and bright and made him want to smile.

She made him smile, he realized, really smile. It wasn't just the twisting of lips that made his face contort into a horrible mask, one that made Sango turn away from him with that dark, undecipherable look in her eyes. It wasn't the smile that held no emotion... his eyes were better for that, he thought, better for speaking to people. He could smile and pretend, but in the end, it was always his eyes. He had tried looking in the mirror once, tried to read his own emotions but he could only hate his face, because it was harder to read himself than it was to feel. And it was such a nice, expressionless mask... so much sothat he wished he could bring his nails to his face until he felt the sting of the air against his raw flesh, could feel the blood trickling down that perfect mask he hated... wished he could be hideous and cracked and _then_ how easy would it be to read himself? He hated his mask, but if it was cracked, it would be twice as ugly and he would only read hate and desperation, because it was so much _easier_ to feel sorrow and anger than it was to feel happy, especially when his dreams were just as broken as the bloodied flesh caught under his nails.

Scars were memories and had a history, but he had _none_, except for feelings of anger and resentment directed at him, felt by him, harbored and nurtured by him, and somewhere along the line, he felt that it was wrong.

Perhaps it had been when she smiled at him.

And perhaps, it was because of her.

Kagome radiated nothing but warmth, after all.

He couldn't watch her, not nearly as much as he wanted to, but there was something nice about seeing _him._ Perhaps it had been his eyes--they were the same, after all. Smoky blue, just like hers. Full of emotions and expressions, but his were more closed off. More reserved. Kohaku couldn't help but wonder whether or not he hated his sister for leaving him.

Perhaps Souta would hate her more for being alive.

Kohaku wasn't sure. He didn't think he wanted to be.

It was easy, following him around. His hair was just as black as hers, his eyes just as big, but his mouth continued to remained pressed in that firm, unhappy line. He wondered what would happen if he tried to force him to smile--would his mouth hold firm? Or would it twist and curl unpleasantly, just as his did whenever he was forced to smile? Would his eyes speak for him, but would his face remain expressionless, sad, painful? He wondered what would happen if he suddenly tried to befriend him. He was only a year younger than him, but if he got closer to him, perhaps, just perhaps, he might know what it felt like. Was he forced to write his feelings down in diaries that weren't meant for his eyes alone? Was he forced to twist his feelings into dreams, pick out the symbolic nature of whatever it was he felt, understand why anger was like a cold ice, and sorrow, hot and burning because what else could it be?

It could have been many things, like happiness and joy and knowing what it felt like to be content, but the simple thought of that burned and trickled away, just like the memories. How was he supposed to remember memories long forgotten anyways? That was why he had forgotten them, right?

Tiredly, Kohaku leaned against the wall, and watched him sweep.

He was the only one left for cleaning duty, and somehow, Kohaku found it funny.

Ironic.

Perhaps, even a little helpful.

He wondered whether or not he knew he had been watching him. Following him. His friends had made their own little lewd remarks about why he was so interested in him, but there was just so many _similarities_ between them. Maybe he smiled, just the way that she did. Maybe, he spoke with his hands and leaned towards people when worried. Maybe he had that fierce determination and that pathetic little stab of depression when he thought about not being around those that he loved. Maybe he knew what it was to want to smile, maybe he used his eyes to speak his emotions, maybe his mask had cracks, _too_, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe, maybemaybe_maybe--_

"Excuse me."

The sound of his voice was like the sounds of the waves against the shore. It was almost painful listening to it, and for a brief second, Kohaku couldn't help but wonder how someone so similar could seem so _different_, and--

"Did you need something?"

Kohaku blinked and pushed himself away from the wall, walking into the room slowly. He was glad that he had noticed him first--how would he have gone about speaking to him anyways?--otherwise, he knew he would have froze. Knew he would have left. The thought made his fingers tingle with anticipation, and his feet continue to move towards him. It wasn't until he felt the dull ache of the broom digging into his stomach that he realized--when had they gotten so close? Clearing his throat, Kohaku moved back, putting some distance between them. It was like stepping out of a dream, like seeing a younger Kagome in a boys body... he wondered whether or not he even realized just how much he looked like his sister.

"Higurashi Souta?"

The boy blinked and turned his head away. "Yes."

"I... I'm Kohaku."

"I know who you are. Everyone likes you."

Kohaku ignored the last part of the statement (because _I never really speak to them_, and it didn't make sense, not really), instead, focusing on the first. He was a little disturbed to know just how he knew him--he hadn't noticed him until one of his friends had pointed him out, whispering excitedly about a prank that they wanted to play on him. He had ignored it though--his eyes had been what caught his attention, the way his mouth never smiled and he never spoke. Quiet. Sad. It was something that he was all too accustomed to, something that made his inside quiver with excitement... he was desperate to find someone else like him. At least, that way, he would never be alone.

He had worked so hard to find out more about him -- "_You mean you didn't hear? His sister was killed by some psycho a while ago. Apparently the guy got away without so much as a warning. Lucky bastard, I'd say. Just because he's rich... rich kids get away with _everything"-- and a feeling had cemented its way inside of him. He learned his name not long after, and even though he knew what it was like to get caught in molasses, never moving, except for the tiniest bit, it still hurt to know that he couldn't do anything about it... still hurt to know that he _wouldn't_. Part of him felt amused when Souta had been forced into the nurses office to change clothes after being pelted with water balloons and forcibly changed into the girls' required uniforms. _So like a girl,_ he thought, even though he saw the short cropped hair and the eyes and way his jaw was just a little firmer than Kagome's, and his shoulders just a little bit broader. He was so like a girl then, when he first arrived, and Kohaku hadn't thought anything of it. But then he had felt sick and horrible and his mask refused to crack, instead he pretended and pretended and _pretended_ because, really, what else was there to do?

Souta probably hated him for it.

Kohaku couldn't help but wonder if he would still look like a girl, even now.

"So," Kohaku said after a long period of silence. "Do you need help?"

Souta shook his head, and knelt down, sweeping the dirt into the dustpan. "I'm finished."

Kohaku nodded. "Well, we could go to WacDonalds, if you want. I have a coupon for it and--"

"I have to help my grandfather at the shrine."

"Oh," Kohaku said slowly. "You live on a shrine."

Souta gave a sharp jerk of his head and dumped the dirt into the trashcan before moving towards the back of the classroom and storing the broom and the dustbin into a cabinet.

"Where's it at?"

Souta paused and glanced towards Kohaku, eying him carefully. "You've heard of the Goshinboku, haven't you? The tree that's supposed to house a spirit in it, one that can grant your wishes? I live at that shrine," Souta answered, turning away as Kohaku's eyes widened.

"I bought a charm from there, once," Kohaku said slowly as they walked out of the room, school bags in hand. Souta barely said a word as they descended the stairs and headed towards their lockers-- Kohaku's was near the entrance of the school while Souta's was near the rear. Knowing that he wouldn't wait for him, Kohaku slid out of his indoor shoes and put on his sneakers--he didn't want to miss Souta if it was the last thing he did.

But by the time he finished tying up his laces, Souta was already walking out the front door, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder.

"Souta!"

Souta paused, then sighed--Kohaku was certain his shoulders hunched, as though in pain-- and slowly, he turned around to face him.

"What do you want?" Souta asked quietly, almost desperately, and Kohaku froze next to him. He felt as though he could reach out a hand--ha, reach out, as though he could save him. The thought was bitter and mocking, but before he could stop himself, his fingers were already curling around the crook of Souta's elbow and dragging him closer to him. The younger boy stiffened, and Kohaku gazed at his hair... just like Kagome's, just as shiny, just as black. Kohaku felt as though he could smile, but at the same time, he didn't want to, and instead of answering, he started moving, dragging the younger boy along.

"Hey, what... you... let me _go_."

But Kohaku wasn't listening. He didn't think he cared.

He just wanted to see her smile, one more time.

_Yeah_, he thought as slid his arm through Souta's, curling his fingers around his wrist. _A real smile, not a fake one. A true one, one that doesn't hurt so badly._

It was only after Kohaku's fingers curled around Souta's wrist and pressed innocently against his pulse, that Souta stopped struggling.

The silence was almost deafening, but Kohaku was already used to awkward silences that meant nothing but thoughts and thoughts and more thoughts that should have been memories but _weren't_ and--

Yeah, he was used to it. He just didn't expect for it to hurt so bad.

------

(Inuyasha POV)

Die.

She's going to fucking _die._

There are some things that I can handle, like her annoying, and slightly whiny voice right after I wake up, or right in the middle of my favorite T.V. program, or maybe, even just as I'm leaving for work because I know that I won't hear her voice until later that night _anyways_, but _still._ Fucking _still_. That girl is more trouble than she's worth, and I want her to _die._ Horribly. Painfully. Perhaps with some amount of blood and screaming and excruciating pain involved, but really, what does it matter? As long as I get to rip her to shreds, it doesn't matter. As long as she's out of my life and goes to hell where she fucking belongs... yes, yes. Hell. With fire and demons and things that will devour her soul and leave her broken and decrepit and _without_ a conscience, because there's only so much sentience that I can take in a person.

I don't know why I decided to let her fucking stay.

It helps that Miroku manages to keep her off my back, but when she gets on you, she's like a fly that will continue to buzz around your damned head, even though you're the one with the fly swatter. Maybe if our fly swatter wasn't so damned shitty it wouldn't be so hard to get rid of her. But every time I try to creep over to her, knife in hand, ready, poised to attack, she turns those damned annoying eyes on me, and thinks that by being all smoky and swirly and shit that she can win me over. Well, what the fuck ever. Stupid woman. I hate her. I wonder why she's too stupid to understand that. I haven't hated anyone more than I hate her, and I've hated a bunch of people.

Wait. Scratch that.

There is one bastard that I hate more than her, but she's getting so damned close... If she closes her eyes and glows one more time I'm going to rip her trachea out. Sitting there, acting like she knows what it takes to be a damned Angel. Like she knows what it means to take away something. So she made a cigarette disappear? So fucking what? I'd like to know what's so special about that in the first place. I guess she deserves some credit, though, because I didn't really want to smoke that piece of shit in the first place. But I still don't like people running around in my head, acting like they own the damn place. Miroku can do that well enough on his own, fucking bastard, and I hate him enough as it is. Although... well.

Fuck.

I hate them all.

But if she jumps up and starts singing and glowing one more time, I'm going to break her face.

Miroku knows it, too. Which is probably why he keeps encouraging her.

_Bastard._

----

(Kagome POV)

There are times when I think that I could be just a little bit nicer to my... well, I'm not really sure what I should call them anymore. Housemates? Friends? I know that they're anything but friends, but at the same time, I can't help but think they are. Oh, sure, Inuyasha's an insensitive jerk that doesn't know when to keep his loud mouth shut, and Miroku's an arrogant know-it-all, with that annoying, "I-serve-Buddha-and-am-suitably-enlightened-so-therefore-I-know-everything" smile on his face and those dark brooding eyes that always seem to be undressing me. I guess I should have listened to Sango when she told me what a lecher he was.

After glow slippers. I should have realized there was something wrong with him as soon as Sango told me they were _afterglow slippers._

But then again, there was no way that I was going to fail this. I wanted my wings. I _needed_ them. I wonder, if put into my place, whether or not those jerks would understand what having wings meant. I mean, sure, after I got them, there was no way in hell that I was going to visit them again, but it meant something, knowing that I could live and breathe and survive the way that normal people do. It meant something, knowing that I would be able to go between the heavens and the earth, between happiness and _reality_--reality was what was most important after all, and even though I knew they all shared the same pain and understood each other, I was beginning to think that there were some things that they didn't really _understand_ about one another. Miroku's ambiguity for instant. Inuyasha understood it, gods, I'm certain he even knows why he's like that, but whenever I see Sango look at Miroku, it's as though she's trying to read a very complicated book--just what is the extent of their relationships? Inuyasha and Miroku move around each other and fit together like yin and yang. Inuyasha has his share of... well, whatever, _too_, but whenever I look at them, I see more of Inuyasha's anger in Sango, more of Sango's sorrow in Miroku, and more of Miroku's darkness in Inuyasha. It's like a never-ending circle, and there has to be _some_ middle ground, otherwise... otherwise... I'm not entirely sure.

But if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that Miroku's a lying, arrogant, _pervert_ that needs to _die._

I glared at him, sitting there on his couch, leaning back oh so casually in his perfectly pressed white pants and his perfectly pressed green shirt with his legs crossed at the knee. His house slippers looked perfect on him, too, green, just like his shirt, and it was a picture of perfection.

Yes, I must admit it. I haven't made any ground.

As in, none.

Nothing, nada, zip, zilch, caput, and whatever other words signify _nothing._ I mean, it was okay, until Kohaku showed up. Yes, everything was going somewhat smoothly, if a little roughly, but I was still making some ground. And then Kohaku with his innate ability to run away came walking quietly into my life and after he mentioned my younger brother, it was like some invisible wall suddenly shot up and separated us all from one another. For what it's worth, I've heard Inuyasha cuss at Miroku and call him weird names like "bouzu" which, you know, doesn't really make any _sense_, especially since Miroku is still a _law student_ and not, well... a monk. Although, when I think about it, the thought of Miroku being a monk is really funny and really frightening at the same time, because if he was, then that would mean they would know the karma sutras back and forth, up and down, left to right, front to back, diagonally across and sometimes maybe horizontally backwards.

And this only goes to prove that hanging around perverts can, in fact, completely skewer your perception of things. Like innocence.

But, anyways, wall.

Really annoying, and only goes to prove just how jerkish and arrogant they are, but still. I want to make some really bad jokes about Inuyasha's name, and Miroku's name, and a tree that has God like powers and Hell, but I don't think that would go over well. Inuyasha would probably just glare at me all menacing like, and then he'd say something rude and then I'd say something rude and then I'd probably yell at him and in the end, we're both yelling at each other while Miroku sits back and watches, encouraging us.

_Jerk._

Well, to be honest, he's being more helpful than not. Not that I'd ever admit that to him, because all he wants is to prove that he's _right_, when in reality, he's _wrong._ I mean, really! What type of person thinks that it's okay to make food for others, and none for you? What kind of guy thinks that it's okay for someone to bring up your younger brother but then force you not to visit with him? It's torture, plain and simple. He's even worse than Inuyasha, to be completely honest.

Inuyasha, who's not a morning person. Who laughs at me whenever I have nightmares about rain and fights with parents and... I frowned suddenly, the microphone halfway to my mouth. Come to think of it, I haven't really had a chance to think over my nightmares. I know that I've been having them. I know what it's like to wake up screaming and scratching at skin that's already raw and about to bleed and... there were so many ands. And Miroku for Sango and Sango for Inuyasha and Inuyasha for Miroku. So many circles that don't make sense, and yet, they _do_, because I know that there has to be more than just those _three_. Sighing, I glanced towards Inuyasha, who was glaring at the sing-a-long on the T.V. screen with something akin to hate. Miroku was smiling with that same annoying smile that he always smiles, but his eyes were dark. Sometimes, I can't help but wonder whether or not he can see my thoughts. It's gotten just a bit easier for me to read him, but then maybe, it's easier for him to read me, _too._

"You aren't going to finish?" Miroku asked, leaning back in his seat.

"Yeah, please finish because I'm almost fucking dead, _anyways_," Inuyasha hissed, glaring at me. "You have the worstdamned voice, _ever_. Like nails on a chalk board."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I nearly shrieked.

My fingers clenched around the microphone, and I glared at him.

"Ah, Inuyasha, I thought Kagome sang beautifully. What was the name of the song you were singing? Kamikaze?"

"More like screeching," Inuyasha mumbled under his breath.

"I was not screeching! And, Kamikaze is the name of the group. The song was called Kisses in December."

"It doesn't change the fact that you still fucking suck and that if you open your mouth one more time I'm going to..."

"Inflicting bodily harm upon a minor is highly inappropriate, Inuyasha," Miroku said, unfolding his white clad legs.

"I'm not a kid!" I shouted. "Twenty-two! I'm twenty-two."

Miroku's lips curved in amusement, and Inuyasha huffed in annoyance.

Sometimes, I can't help but think whether or not they like to torture me on purpose. It would make sense after all, but then... yes, that must be it. They're trying to chase me off. Well, I'd like to see them _try_.

"For what it's worth, I'm not going away," I muttered, feeling vaguely stupid.

They looked at me like I was stupid, too, and I could already feel the anger spiking dangerously. Right. Well.

"_And all that matters are those kisses in December, under the tiny sprig of mistletoe. All that matters is the way you love me, and how your love makes me whol--_"

"SHUT UP!" Inuyasha snapped suddenly. "Stop singing that stupid song! It doesn't even rhyme well. It doesn't make any sense! It's a bunch of crap and if you don't choose a better song--"

"_All that matters are your arms, and how they wrap around me tight. All that matters is when I'm with you, and everything seems all righ--_"

"You are sogoing to die," Inuyasha muttered, his eyes darting around the room quickly. "I'm going to get a brick, bash your head in, and watch you bleed while I stand over your body in absolute victory. Oh, yes, your death will be slow and painful and if you sing one more fucking word you're going to regret it!"

"_Sometimes I wonder whether we're really meant to be. But then when I see you, I realize that you're the only one for me--_"

"Shut up!" Inuyasha yelled as he jumped onto the coffee table. I felt it creak underneath us; yeah, it was all right for me to stand up on the table and dance, but as soon as Inuyasha jumped up there, a strange little thing I like to call UTTER DOOM reared it's head, and it was all I could do to try and jump off the back side of the table. But, as usual, my fate isn't that lucky.

I don't know when he grabbed me, but the first thing I noticed when he did was that his skin was really warm against mine. I had managed to touch Inuyasha only one time before, when I shook his hand and gazed into his memories, but... but now. There was no mental probing or sneaky discourteous thoughts, just warmth, and anger and perhaps... maybe...

_"I'm so sorry..."_

_"I... I _hate_ you."_

_"I don't understand."_

_"Sometimes, when I think of you, I feel incredibly sad."_

_"I didn't mean to, it was an accident, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me, please don't hurt me, please..."_

_"You are mine, you realize. You made me a promise."_

_"I'm not just going to let him fucking die!"_

_"Don't leave me, please, I don't want to be alone!"_

_"I don't think you're capable of love. You aren't in love with her, that's for certain."_

_"Ha, right. You're such a bad liar, Inuya--_"

"..sha."

"_Fuck._"

Yeah, I felt that, too.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I didn't know, but I do know that I've never felt that type of warmth before. I know that I've never felt as though my heart was being ripped from my body, being torn to shreds in front of my very eyes. And, I never knew that the very last thing I would see was his almost molten colored eyes staring down at me with something akin to worry.

Was I fainting?

I think so. But I welcomed the darkness. It was so much easier than trying to deal with this unexpected warmth, so much easier than dealing with snippets of memories that didn't make any sense.

I'd like to think that I was grateful when I fainted, but to be honest, it left me feeling raw and cold and brittle.

Maybe, if Inuyasha hadn't been there to catch me, I might have broken. Broken, like porcelain.

But people aren't that weak, and thoughts aren't supposed to be that broken, and shards of wood aren't supposed to hurt as much as it did once the table finally broke underneath us. I'd like to think that it was Inuyasha's fault that I fainted, but I know better.

It was mine.

Somehow, I don't think I could really live with that.

-----

Souta liked vanilla ice cream with chocolate swirls, and although Kohaku's favorite was red bean, he couldn't help but scoop a messy glob from the top of Souta's with his index finger, his lips twitching at the disgruntled expression that flitted over the younger boys' face as soon as Kohaku tasted it. It was the only real emotion that Kohaku had seen on his face -- no, it wasn't in his eyes, not in his mannerisms, but on his face, peeking through from behind the mask, whispering and taunting and--_I know there's more, there has to be._ And since then, there had been a strange niggling feeling within him, one that made him want to dig and poke and prod and break through the mask that adorned Souta's face.

Soutaate his ice cream with an indifferent air, as though he were just feeding his body, and the observation irked Kohaku, more than he would like to think. Glancing back towards the younger boy, Kohaku took a huge bite of his sugar cone, only to frown as Souta stopped licking his, and turned towards him. There was something there, something that didn't make sense, and something that Kohaku knew he was going to regret. Did he know how much he had been watching him? Did he know how long it took for him to get to that point, to finally work up the courage to talk to him? Even throughout their excursion around town, Kohaku had kept his arm entwined carefully with Souta's, his fingers wrapped around his wrist, pressing lightly against his pulse. It had been strange, walking with him like that, and even though he knew Souta wouldn't run away, not like _he_ did, there was still something oddly reassuring about the gesture. But now... now he was going to ask, going to confront him, and nervously, Kohaku bit into his sugar cone. He had finished his ice cream long ago, and although he felt some sense of fear at what was going to happen, it still wasn't enough to actually make him _want_ to bolt... Kagome had looked at him with eyes like that, too, eyes he wanted to get to know, eyes he wanted to memorize and cherish and... and...

"Why--"

"My sister knows this lady that works with her," Kohaku interrupted, tossing the rest of his sugar cone into the garbage bin. "She usually gives my sister free tickets to the amusement parks around this time. Sango doesn't go, and she usually gives them to me, you know. And, well, I usually give them to my friends, but if you want to go--"

"There are club meetings on Saturday," Souta pointed out, ignoring the melting ice cream that was dripping off of his fingers and onto his pants.

Kohaku shrugged. "You're not in a club, so it shouldn't--"

"How do you know?" Souta cut in, his voice even. But when Kohaku turned to look at him, he could see his hands shaking, could see it gripping the sugar cone tightly, and just like he wanted, it was cracking, being crushed, _destroyed_, and--

"Does it matter?" Kohaku asked, his eyes glued on Souta's hand.

"No."

It was spoken so softly that it startled Kohaku, and before Souta could crush the sugar cone further, Kohaku grabbed it and pried his fingers apart, barely managing to keep the cone from breaking in Souta's hand and falling on his already messy uniform. He tossed that into the trash bin also, watching as Souta looked at the tiny white blots on his black uniform, his lips curved into a frown. It was almost as though he had never seen such a stark contrast, white on black, light against darkness, love against hate. Kohaku couldn't help but wonder what he saw. Snow in darkness, perhaps. Or, perhaps, a gesture, something coming out of the shadows. For a moment, Kohaku felt guilty. Yes, he knew he was there for Kagome. If Kagome couldn't see her brother, then he _would_, and he would keep their memories, lock them away in his mind. He would live for her, help her, help to disperse some of the agony that she felt. She didn't wear masks, but she understood pain, and when Souta's fingers curled in his, Kohaku couldn't help but smile.

Really smile.

It hurt to know that Souta could make him feel that way, too.

"You should meet my sister," Kohaku said after a while, noticing the way Souta's fingers tightened around his.

It only lasted for a moment, but somehow, Kohaku remembered to squeeze back.

-----

(Inuyasha POV)

She's fucking dead, I know it.

-----

(Miroku POV)

I have to admit, it was rather amusing to see the panic flitter across Inuyasha's face. In all of the years that I have known him, I have seen Inuyasha deal with a multitude of emotions, those emotions usually being the typical anger and rage, but I never expected him to panic. She had just fainted after all, and it was really nothing to be too worried about. However, Inuyasha has always been the type of person to react rashly to petty situations, so this was nothing out of the ordinary. To be completely honest, I had rather been enjoying Kagome's singing voice... it wasn't nearly as horrible as Inuyasha made it out to be. The lyrics, of course, were horrific and something I'd hope to never come out of Kagome's mouth again, but she still had a sort of melodic quality to her voice. It rather made up for the horrible way in which those lyrics were written.

And to think, Kamikaze is actually a popular singing group.

I was a little surprised to see Inuyasha jump on the table and grab her, though. I hadn't expected it to happen so quickly, and that was a slight miscalculation on my part. Of course, I'm not usually wrong, and the fact that she fainted almost as soon as he touched her was enough to cause the warning bells to go off in my head, but I'm not nearly as rash as Inuyasha. I knew what was happening, but there really was nothing that I could do about it. Perhaps if Inuyasha was so inclined to ask for my help more often than not, we wouldn't have to deal with these types of things. I did tell him never to touch her, it was just giving her license and permission to get closer, to invade his privacy and his space, and that was not something that needed to be done. Of course, I wasn't capable of helping Inuyasha through his troubles after all the years I've known him, and even though we're friends now, it's like this horrible rift between us. A wall that refuses to come down. We don't speak about our problems with one another, although we do grudgingly acknowledge them. It's like a bitter taste in the back of our throats, one that continues to linger there. The taste of upchuck was never that good, nor did it taste very sweet, but we've become used to it. When Kagome first arrived, she tried to touch him, and almost at once, I could see his shields come up--the weakened shields, shields that shattered and were destroyed, simply by a look.

An Angel, she said.

Well, that had certainly made things interesting.

It was good thinking on her part to go to Sango, and although Sango is dear to us both, both in different ways, she doesn't share the same things that we share. Yes, Inuyasha may have despised me while I was in high school, and the only reason we even became superficial friends was because of the fact that I wouldn't leave him alone. Boys at my school practically left me by myself, and after I met Inuyasha, with his brooding eyes and horrible expressions and his nasty moods, it was like a switch had been turned on inside of me. It was a rather strange feeling, but one I accepted openly. After that, it was smooth sailing; Inuyasha dealing with me as I tried to hit on girls in order to have more variety in my life--admittedly, Inuyasha isn't always the best company to have, especially when you're looking for a bit of female companionship. While his hair _is_ pretty girlish, that's the only thing that signifies that he may have swapped genders when he was younger... but then again, it could just be because he's too lazy to cut his hair.

We didn't become true friends until college, until we applied to the same university, and until we understood what it meant to be friends--not just hang out and go to fast food joints and eat ice cream in parks. I think that it was that shift that really started it all. Sango, with all of her absolute beauty but complete obliviousness and stupidity didn't understand at first--there were just some things that couldn't be said to her, specifically, although I really wanted to tell her. Inuyasha knew, but then he had been there, with _her_, and he knew what it was to see real pain, to experience it.

Memories escape me sometimes--what do memories matter, after all? They are just tiny inconceivable instances in our lives that serve no meaning. It hurts sometimes, yes, but at the same time, it's manageable. Simple. Like vomit in the back of your throat, or a painful ache in your belly, or the way skin feels, being ripped from your bones. It's all pain, all normal. If pain was something out of the ordinary, then less people would feel it. It didn't take me until _that_ moment to realize it, but I did, even as my eyes watered and Inuyasha was still there, being himself.

_Panicking._

Granted, it was more serious than _this_, but as much as I hate to admit it, within the few weeks that Kagome's been living with us, she has grown on us. I admit, I haven't been entirely fair to her ever since she arrived, but even though she doesn't believe it, there _is_ that feeling of camaraderie. It's like stepping close to a fire after being caught out in the snow. It's the tingling sensation in your fingers as you hold it against the flickering of the flames--thousands of tiny pin pricks, aching and burning, but feeling so very wonderful at the same time... that is how I feel whenever I am around her. Yes, it's painful, especially when she and Inuyasha argue and fight, but it's endearing at the same time. She did force herself into our lives, but at the same time, I can't help but acknowledge the fact that she _belongs_ there. Like a bridge, keeping us all together. Is that possible? We can't always be together forever, but regardless...

"Are you gonna fucking help me or not?" Inuyasha snapped, glaring at me.

Now that I look at it, if I were in Inuyasha's position, I might have panicked also.

Aside from the fact that a very delectable teenaged girl had fainted in his arms, there was one, minor issue.

She was glowing.

And it _burned._

-----

(Inuyasha POV)

She's gonna fucking rot and then I'm gonna get blamed for it, and if Sango finds out, she's gonna want to castrate me...

-----

There were so many hands, so many things she couldn't understand.

It was as though something had plunged into her chest, gripped her heart, and tore it to shreds, right in front of her face. There was warmth, but then again there was always warmth, and it was usually hot and sticky and looked like blood. She had thought that there was something wrong, had noticed it, but instead of commenting on it, she flew through the emotions, feeling the flames of anger,the subtle tingle of happiness,the cold iciness of sorrow. She didn't understand why emotions felt like daggers, plunging into her skin, but then it could have been something else entirely, something horrid and slick, with oil and grease, and perhaps, tears of anger and hatred.

It sounded better, the tears, but still, she recognized this feeling, the way the knives dug into her side and peeled away her skin. Flesh was exposed--had it always been like this?--and blood flowed freely, going from blue to red, from warm to warmer, and she wiggled uncomfortable, biting into her lip. But then she was nothing and everything, and instead of pain, she could feel herself being lifted higher and higher, closer to that precipice.

Pain shouldn't have existed on this plane, but it did, and it coursed through her like flames, consuming her body, leaving her charred and blistered -- there were names, somewhere in the back of her mind, but then they were pushed away, ignored, left behind. What did names matter anyways? There was no name for this feeling, for the taste of blood and the feel of bloody clothes scratching against her skin. There wasn't a name for the way the light seemed to blind her, for the way the hands seemed to grip her, even as the world dropped from under her, piercing through her leg--yes, pain, familiar. She thought she should open her eyes, but that hardly mattered now, and she didn't want to, not when she was busy curling in on herself, ignoring the way the skin at her sides tore and ripped and--sticky. Blood was always sticky, and she could feel it on her hands, coating her tongue, dripping from her hair.

There were people around her-- _so many voices, so many thoughts, why am I here? I don't understand..._

_"Sometimes, when I think of you, I feel incredibly sad."_

_"Yeah, whatever. Look, don't worry about me, got it? Just... just worry about the old man."_

_"Hmm, yes, I do. I always do. But Inuyasha, when I think of him, I can't help but think of you, too. You're my--"_

The feeling shifted, changed. The blood was still there, it was still painful, but instead of being sticky, it was fluid, like water, and floated around her and through her and in her, and she had never felt anything more painful, more agonizing in her entire life.

Life. Was it leaving her?

She didn't know. All she knew was pain and random bits of thoughts; thoughts didn't belong to her, no. She could just feel the threads tugging at her fingers, twisting and pulling around it. The threads were sharp as a blade, and distantly, she wondered if it would slice off her fingers--maybe, perhaps, but then again, perhaps not. She didn't want it to, at least. She just wanted to wake up, wanted forget the thoughts that weren't hers and be back where she was supposed to be. Be some place where the warmth was really _her _warmth and no one else's, where she could hear anger resonating within her ears, but not meaning very much... She wanted something to look forward to, and almost systematically, the spot between her shoulder blades _ached._

_"Is that mine?"_

_"I don't fucking care... do you... want it?"_

_"Yes, yes, I do."_

_"Keh. Whatever."_

_"Inuyasha."_

_"What?"_

_"Thank you."_

_"Feh. Whatever."_

_"Hmm."_

Aching with an intensity that wasn't hers, one that belonged to someone else, because she could feel the scars raising on her back, could feel the skin ripping and shredding, but healing over. But then it happened again and again and again and _again_--

_"It's not going to help."_

_"Shows what you fuckin' know. Just mind your business, asshole."_

_"Whatever you think you share with her... it's not real, you know."_

_"Shut the hell up."_

_"I don't think you're capable of love. You aren't in love with her, that's for certain."_

_"Keh. Bastard Angels, always thinking they know what's best. Well guess what, I don't care, so just leave me alone."_

_"Inuyasha--"_

_"Shut your damned mouth!"_

_"You can't treat her like this forever. She's not the kind of person to wait around. Ki-"_

And again.

And again.

And _again._

"Now, please, wake up."

And just like that, the pain stopped.

But she didn't wake up.

-----

He didn't let go of his hand.

Kohaku didn't think he could. There was something about the stickiness of Souta's hand on his, the way his fingers curled around his tightly. Kohaku knew that he had been the first one to reach out to him, to take him by the arm and guide him somewhere. Kohaku wondered whether or not anyone would do that for him, and instantly thought of Kagome. It had been strange at first, thinking of her, seeing her smile and her uncomfortable expressions. But Kagome had lied for him, had attempted to get Sango to recognize him and... that meant a lot. Kohaku had a feeling that Souta meant a lot to Kagome, and he was going to give her memories of him. Memories that she couldn't have, simply because of the fact that she was...

...That had been strange, too, coming to terms with the fact that Kagome wasn't really _real._ Alive. An _Angel._ It was funny that Kohaku only thought about it now, but at the same time, he didn't care. He knew that he had hated his own memories, knew what it meant to be without them, and more than anything, he wanted to know what it was like to have some of his own. But then... then emotions always morphed into dreams and things that weren't as important as the next... What did it matter, when dreams could take the place of forgotten memories? Dreams that were shattered and broken, that were nightmares more than they were dreams, that... that meant nothing and everything all at once.

But this was more than a nightmare and a dream. This was reality. This was something that burned with an unknown intensity, something which ached and throbbed like nothing he had ever known before. Perhaps, if he had been paying attention, he might have remembered the reason why he hated this intensity, the ache, but still, he clung to it, because there was nothing else that he could do. Because Souta was near him, and if he broke down in front of him the way he had cracked in front of Kagome--what did it mean to want to see his bleeding flesh under his nails, scraping against his skin, leaving scars? Did Souta want scars? Did Kagome have them?

Souta must have noticed the shift, because his sticky fingers tightened again, and Kohaku was smiling, just as he had smiled before: real and true and hurting, because no one had ever made him smile before. Not like this. Not like Kagome. Were they really the same? He couldn't remember the last time Sango had given him anything but pain, or the way his parents had tossed him aside, giving him journals and pieces of paper that sliced through his skin like a hot knife through butter. Souta's hand felt good against his own. Secure. Perhaps, if Sango saw how he felt, saw his friend, she might understand. She might know what it's like to be lonely and hated, because although he didn't _hate _his sister, he certainly didn't love her, at least, not in the way that he wanted to. He respected her somewhat, but most of the time, it was just a bitter resentment, one that made his chest ache in pain and made him wish for a happiness he knew he could never have.

How was it possible for one person to turn that all around? How was it possible for Kagome, an Angel, someone who didn't truly exist but _did_, to make him finally want to smile and like people again? Sure, he had friends at school, but he never really considered them his true friends. Friends that he was supposed to love and cherish and-- he thought he already loved Souta. Souta, who was hurting just as he was. Souta who knew what it meant to have a sister that loved him, only to be ripped brutally away, only to be replaced by something else. Something that wasn't his sister, something that was nothing more than an aching emptiness, one that made him want to run and run and _run_, but...

...But Souta stopped. Souta had tried to understand. Kohaku wanted to understand, but no one ever let him. Perhaps that had been their mistake. His mistake. It certainly made sense whenever he thought about it, and it always churned unpleasantly in his stomach. But if Sango did see Souta, she had to understand. He wasn't lonely anymore, and even though he ran to the one person that made him feel twice as lonely, twice as alone, it still didn't change the fact that it burned, just as it always burned.

He wanted to hug Souta.

But at the same time, he wantedSouta's mask to crack, wanted to see that bloodied skin under his finger nails.

_It's only been a few hours,_ Kohaku thought as he pulled Souta up the stairs, towards his sister's home.

It didn't matter. Even though he didn't have his sister, Souta _could_, and Kohaku just wanted him to be happy. That's what Kagome was working for, wasn't it?

And, if Kagome could do it, Kohaku knew that he could do it, too.

-----

They floated to her like currents of the wind, brushing against her skin, reminding her of what was real and what wasn't.

This wasn't reality, but there wasn't pain, and it made her feel better.

She could taste the fear--she didn't want to open her eyes, to stare at the dark abyss in front of her, or wonder why it was there. She had thought that she knew--she probably should have known, but regardless of what she felt, she didn't want to be there. She wished that she could be anywhere but there, that she could feel and live and do what it was that she wanted... warmth was never supposed to be so painful, but it had been, regardless, and she couldn't help but wonder why he had made her feel that way.

Why. It was always an interesting way to ask a question, that why.

But... she shouldn't have had to. She knew why after all. She didn't know all of it, but she knew some of it, and that was supposed to be enough.

Tiredly, she reached out.

It snagged on her fingers.

Her eyes fluttered open.

-----

The first thing she noticed was their hands.

Kohaku could tell, just by the way her brow furrowed and her lips twisted into an unpleasant frown. It wasn't that she was unhappy--far from it, but by the way Souta attempted to tug his hand away from his, Kohaku knew that it had bothered _him._ Holding on even tighter, Kohaku gave his sister a blank look, before pushing passed her, and pulling Souta over to the couch.

His fingers slid out of his easily then, and for a brief moment, the chill that seemed to sting his flesh ached--he wanted Souta's hand back in his just as much as Souta did, but then Sango was moving into the room, glancing back and forth between the two of them. It took her a moment, _a moment too long,_ Kohaku thought, to finally zone in on Souta's face. Her eyes narrowed, just as they had done when she noticed their hands; yes, it was odd, Kohaku could admit that much. It was even stranger for two adolescent boys to walk through town, holding hands. But they hadn't cared then. The comfort was all that they wanted, all that they needed, and even though Souta had only been with Kohaku for a few hours, Kohaku felt as though he had known him for ages. Perhaps it was Kagome's influence, the way she was reflected in his eyes--eyes which didn't seem so blue as much as grayish brown. Or perhaps, it was the way that Souta had made him smile by taking his hand--yes, please, let's be friends. _Friends_. It made his stomach churn nervously. If Souta didn't accept Sango as well, it wouldn't go over well. Loneliness hurt, but someone deserved a proper brother, and although it hurt him to hand Sango over so freely, he knew that she didn't want him, knew that she wanted someone different, and as long as Souta knew that there was _someone_ he could look up to, that was all that really mattered. It was all he wanted to matter, all he wanted to ensure, all he wanted Souta to feel because, really, who else could feel something as wonderful as having a _real_ older sister, and--

"You... you look just like Kagome."

Kohaku's eyes widened.

And everything that he had worked for in that day, everything that he had tried to uncover--the warmth, the smiles, the trust, the friendship, the confusion--it all disappeared. He felt as though his hand had just been put through a pane of glass. He could feel the shards protruding from his skin, digging into the tender space between his knuckles, but... but...

_Empty._

_Souta's eyes were empty_

The mask had shattered.

Kohaku didn't have to say anything, but he liked to think Sango recognized the emotion anyways.

It was the only emotion they tossed back and forth between one another, after all.

_Hate._


	10. Chapter Nine, Part One

**A/N:** Just so you aren't confused:

This chapter and the last chapter happen in the same day, but are told from different perspectives. In other words, it starts with a bit of introspection and then moves onto the beginning of Sango's day. If you recall from last chapter, Kagome fainted, but that happened in the evening, after people were off from work and the kids were out of school. That comes into play later in this chapter.

Also, this chapter is going to be updated in two parts due to its length (part two will be posted on Thursday).

Be happy. This probably won't happen again. XD

Enjoy.

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**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CH. 9**

**PART ONE**

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(Sango)

Why is it always so difficult to understand him?

I suppose a lot of it has to do with the fact that we're never open with one another, but regardless of that fact, I would have thought that it would have been easy. He was my little brother after all; what was there to understand?

Turns out there was more than I originally anticipated.

It's like sifting through a whole bunch of _nothing_ whenever he's around, and I find that things are actually easier when he's not. Things had been easier, but now, it seemed like it had all gone down hill. I should have known that introducing Kohaku to Kagome would have been a mistake, and I had tried my hardest to follow through on that feeling. I mean, how the hell else was I supposed to deal with that? Kagome couldn't help me, not the way that she was planning on helping Inuyasha, so keeping my brother to myself was all that I really wanted to do. It was what I liked to do, actually, because he was my problem, my issue. He was part of my life and not hers, and the thought of sharing some of _my_ nothingness with Kagome was just a little… daunting, I suppose.

In truth, I was frightened. Kagome had a way of worming her way into your life and just _staying_ there. She had a way of prompting emotions that I would have never thought possible… the first time I met her I had a complete break-down, and that's only speaking mildly.

I just about freaked when I wandered into my sitting room only to find Kohaku and Kagome talking to one another. Well, they were having more of a stare down, if I'm being completely honest, and when I tried to confront Kohaku about it, about the non-existent manners, Kagome immediately jumped to his defense.

Well, okay, so perhaps I know _some_ things about my brother, and there is _something_ in his nothingness, but there is absolutely no way that he would actually _talk_ to Kagome. Not in the way she inferred. Not in the way that I wished he would have. But the lie didn't bother me. I merely brushed it aside because, honestly, I wanted that as well. I wanted the lie, wanted to see Kohaku acting like something more than he usually did and… perhaps I should have doubted her. At least that way, she wouldn't have worked up the courage to ask me that god forsaken question that left me slightly off-kilter and hurting more than I wanted to admit. In retrospect, I should have expected it. I knew about Kagome's innate ability to wedge her self inside of a hurt so deeply that no one was able to escape her… kindness. I knew that before she even had a chance to realize what she was doing, she was going to be rubbing salt in an already salted wound, further aggravating it, making it worse. Somehow, whenever it came to her, it just seemed like things were going to get worse before they got better. I should have realized that before I gave her permission to hurt us all, before I sat back and listened to her tell me that she was going to hurt me. Hurt Miroku. Hurt Inuyasha.

And now… now that she knew him, she was going to hurt Kohaku as well. It's funny, actually, that out of all the emotionally retarded people in the world that Kagome just had to run across, she had to come across the one fucked up person who happened to collect psychopathic friends like my uncle collects coins. In the long run, the outcome will be good… I'm sick and tired of hurting after all, and if Kagome's Angel tendencies happen to be therapeutic then all the better. But Kohaku was _not_ someone I wanted to share with her. Call it selfish, but we all are.

Kohaku is _my_ brother after all. _My _problem. _My _pain. _My_ nothingness.

But I'm not the only one that's selfish. Miroku is, _too. _Why else would he stick to so close to Inuyasha? Why else would he milk that… 'failure' he calls it, but for some reason, I just can't believe it. I didn't much care for the fact that Kagome was forcing herself into Inuyasha's life, but I let it happen. I let it happen because if she was focusing on Inuyasha, then she wouldn't be focusing on me. She _wanted_ to focus on me, I could tell. Just as I could tell that she wanted to focus on Miroku and Inuyasha and Kohaku. I could tell by the way that she spoke about them, as if they were more important in that very moment. But sometimes, when she does, she's just digging for more information, just as she did with me. When she was with all of us, her perceptions were skewed. It felt like she was so confused and frustrated about what she was supposed to do, that she just did what she wanted to.

She thought about herself a lot, I think. But with the way that we were all so guarded…

I haven't spoken to her in a week.

Part of me wanted to speak to her, but at the same time, I just couldn't find the strength to actually call her up or visit her. Couldn't find the strength to actually sit down with her and explain to her just why I got so irritated whenever she spoke of Kohaku. And so _easily_, as though it didn't matter that she used his name or ignored his nothingness or…

But when Kohaku got back, he was happier. Happier than I had seen him, at least, and that was just as worse as him being angry with me. Because Kagome had been the one to make him happy, Kagome had been the one to make his emotions seem lighter, more manageable and…

I didn't want to speak to her, not anymore, not after that.

It seemed spiteful and petty, but I just couldn't help it. Even though Kagome had blundered so horribly in front of Kohaku, talking about our problems as though they didn't mean anything… but I knew that it wasn't true. Even then, she tried to get to the heart of the problem, tried to figure out what it was that had wounded both Kohaku and I in such a way that I would just dismiss him as though he wasn't important. Kagome noticed it… she always noticed those types of things after all, but… I wanted to tell her that he was important. I wanted to tell her that he was my little brother and I loved him, but I just felt too selfish. Too selfish to admit those feelings, especially since those feelings weren't _real._

And it wasn't just Kohaku's fault. I liked my little lies because they made me feel stronger. I liked feeling stronger, because if that were the case, then I wouldn't have to deal with being weak. Kohaku had the ability to hurt me, but that was only because I wanted to be hurt. Funny, now that I think about it, because I wanted to _stop_ hurting, but… but it hurt just as much to hate him. And if I stopped hurting, then it would have meant that I had actually started to _love_ him, and—

I wanted to. I wanted to be able to love my brother, but I just couldn't find it in me to do so.

Not because I didn't want to, but because there have been so many things that I just couldn't _forgive—_

I haven't spoken to him, either.

I felt stupid really. Stupid and juvenile and ignorant, but I just couldn't help it. I received tiny snippets of their daily life from Miroku whenever he felt the need to drop by the firm in order to feed both me and Inuyasha. And the more I heard, the more I felt the need to talk to Kagome, but the more I wanted to talk to her, the more I stopped myself from doing so. Stupid and juvenile, I wanted to tell myself, but I didn't really care, not really. Or, I tried not to.

Miroku had to have noticed, after all, he noticed _everything._ He noticed the way I cringed whenever he said Kagome's name, noticed the way Inuyasha actually seemed to _listen_ whenever Kagome's name was mentioned, noticed the way that he seemed so _affectionate_ whenever _he_, himself, mentioned her name. It made me angry and bitter and I felt like such a child, but it just couldn't be helped.

Yes, I expected her to hurt us. I knew she would. But never, in all my life, had I actually expected her to become our _friend._

A friend who I wanted nothing to do with because she had gotten to me.

At the end of the day, I couldn't help but wonder whether or not it was worth it.

All in all, the day when my self-imposed misery and disillusionments came crashing down around me could have been worse. I mean, the day had started out well enough, to be completely honest. I was still burning and bitter from Miroku's little indulgence on his private life, still fed up with that smug little smile that seemed to curl his lips whenever he spoke about Kagome, the Angel, the girl who was supposed to miraculously pull us all out of our self-imposed (and others not so self-imposed) pit of despair. He gave me a nice little obento to make up for the fact that he had just about royally pissed me off, but I think he knew that as well. That's not to say that I wasn't still pissed, and he could tell I was, just because he gave me that annoying all-knowing smile that always manages to only irritate me further… I mean, how the hell could anyone know so much about your emotions? I always thought I was great at wearing my masks; Miroku was the first and one of the only people, I might add, to shoot that belief straight to a proverbial hell. Inuyasha was the second, even though he is a bit dense when it comes to what other people feel, and Kagome, the third.

And Kagome…

Miroku must have felt my irritation come back tenfold because he turned towards me just as his hand moved to push Inuyasha's door open.

"Is something bothering you Sango?" That same, annoying smile curved his lips once again, and it was all I could do _not_ to chuck my lunch at him. The lunch that he made for me. The lunch that I should have been eating but was only staring into balefully because I was nothing more than a spoiled, selfish, twenty-five year old woman who should have known better than to act all bent out of shape because some new kid decided to start playing with my best friend.

Gods.

"Of course not," I answered stiffly, ignoring the soft laugh Miroku gave.

"Well, if you feel the need to express yourself, you are more than welcome to express yourself to me."

"Preferably naked and covered with chocolate syrup, right?" I snapped, glaring at him.

"Of course not," Miroku echoed with a wave of his hand. "I'm allergic to chocolate, although the thought of you naked does hold a certain amount of… appeal."

I huffed and tried not to stab myself with my chopsticks. "You know, you're acting awfully…" I made a violent motion with my hands, "…at the moment."

Miroku's eyes darkened and he shrugged his shoulders. "Have you talked to her yet?"

I didn't even try to pretend like I didn't know what the heck he was talking about; instead, I popped a mushroom into my mouth and chewed on it slowly, watching him as he moved away from Inuyasha's door and closer to me.

"I thought about it," I answered after a moment, and was rewarded with Miroku arching a bushy eyebrow in amusement. "Fine then, I thought about not talking to her."

The other eyebrow rose, just as the first one did, and I gave a tiny huff of frustration. "I thought about not talking to her and how much I really wanted to talk to her, but I don't have to."

His eyebrow's lowered then, and he gave me a small smile. His eyes were dark and clothes were perfect, and for a moment, I thought he was going to do something so completely un-Miroku like, such as reaching forward and running his hands through my hair or just reaching for me, period, and the thought made me so uncomfortable that I wanted to run away. I ate some rice instead.

Miroku noticed it for the diversionary tactic that it was and an odd look settled over his face then.

"Have you—" he started, only to stop himself. I wanted to ask him what he wanted to know. I wanted to _know_ what he wanted to know. He was never really one for holding back, after all. Even though he was a pervert, he was oddly compassionate, so much so that it left others feeling awkward and out of place around him. I've never felt that way… just uncomfortable. But not for the same reasons. I think it has something to do with the fact that I've known him for so long… although, to be honest, I don't truly know _everything._ It's always bothered me ever since I can remember, because there was always something that kept Inuyasha bonded to him in a way that _I_ wasn't. Not that I was ever going to admit that to him, but, you know.

Miroku knows almost everything there is to know about me. In that respect, I suppose it is just a bit hypocritical, but in the same token, there are just some things that I don't feel like I can share with him, not yet. Not now. Maybe… when he's ready to share that with me, then… yes. It's dark and painful but something that he has to know… something that he needs to know, I think.

Sure, he knows about Kohaku, but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. But at that moment? It's the only thing that matters. Because it's something that Kagome's going to dig for, something that's going to hurt and burn and make me want to hate her, despite the fact that I don't _want_ to—Miroku knows all about rubbing salt into wounds, _too_, because he had done it with Inuyasha. He had been there, when Inuyasha had been hurt, had almost been there when I had been hurt, and it only made sense that Miroku was the bridge that bound us all together. He had been the one to seek out my company after all. He had been the one to nag and nag and _nag…_

I chewed my lip thoughtfully.

He hadn't been as much of a constant in my life as I had originally thought he would be. Yes, he came by and visited me, exchanged a few words here and there but… it was all about Kagome. All about how she was adjusting. All about how she was feeling. There was nothing in there that was normal between the two of us… his lechery, his lust, his desire. I was used to seeing it… he used the same expression whenever it came to every other female after all, and even though he was just my friend, it burned and ached and _gods_ how I wanted to break his damned neck whenever he did it but _still_… _still_, it just wasn't the same anymore. Yes, there were times like now, when I could sense some strange sort of… something in him. The oddness. The sudden desire to reach out and touch me, but it was coming far less than it normally did.

And I was angry.

Angry because it wasn't supposed to be that way. Angry because I wanted him to reach out. Angry because I wanted to pretend like I could just ignore it. Wanted to pretend like he wasn't just some stupid pervert with an overactive libido and… even now, that damned blanket was still draped over my armchair, those stupid slippers were still shoved in the darkest corner of my closet, and _I still wanted him to focus on me._

But he wasn't.

He was focusing on Kagome, using her as a… as a what? A barrier between us? Safe ground, maybe, because everything had been just as strained with him, _too_, no matter how much we tried to ignore it. It was easier, but that was how we liked things. Easy. Simple. Why make everything so damned difficult if there was a much easier solution?

I was used to being left out of things, after all. Granted, I had managed to stop by their house after the little fall out between Miroku and I, but it was just back to pretending. Acting as though I were something that I wasn't. Inuyasha had been the buffer between us then, just as much as Kagome had been, and although her strange and slightly insane little outburst was more than enough to set each of us on guard, it was pushed out of my mind the day that Kagome met Kohaku. But now… well, what was I supposed to do now?

I felt like an idiot for not realizing that Miroku continued to gloss over our fight, acting as though we only had one common interest. Acting as though Kagome was the only one that mattered. Is that all we have in common? Some Angel who manages to start glowing like some strange, iridescent, untouchable deity? It seemed like the only thing that was holding the both of us together at that point, the only thing that allowed us to talk to one another without me going completely off the deep end and cussing at him the way I had before. There have been very few times when I've actually cussed at Miroku and forcibly threw him from my life, but… but the fact that he was keeping a secret from me had _hurt._ Even if Kagome had been around us at the time, it hadn't mattered to me. It mattered to him, but to me… I didn't like walking on eggshells around Miroku. Miroku, the one who kept us all up. Miroku, with his hidden strength and his… something, which was infinitely more than _nothing._

There was always something with Miroku, something to sift through, and the fact that the only thing we were ever able to talk about Kagome was proof enough that… I had stopped talking to my brother because of Kagome. I didn't want the only reason why I spoke to Miroku be because of Kagome as well.

"Miroku, I—"

Inuyasha's door slammed open. "Out of my fucking way," Inuyasha grumbled as he started to storm down the hall, only to stop and whirl on Miroku. "Do you have food?"

Miroku's lips quirked. "Of course," he replied, handing Inuyasha his obento. "Do enjoy."

"Yeah right," Inuyasha grumbled, but accepted the lunchbox with a curt nod. "That bastard brother of mine is about to rip me a new one."

I blinked. "Why?" I asked, genuinely curious. While Inuyasha and his brother shared some sort of strange relationship with one another, Sesshoumaru just about _never_ called on Inuyasha during work hours. The simple fact that he wanted to talk to Inuyasha was enough to put us all on edge. It was a well known fact that when Sesshoumaru wanted to talk to one of us, nothing good would come of it. More often than not, Sesshoumaru was always talking to Miroku, which was more nerve wracking than I wanted to admit, but then again, there aren't many things that I wanted to admit these days. Like the fact that I wanted to talk to Kagome, for one. Or the fact that I wanted to talk to my brother and that I wanted to stop fighting with Miroku, but didn't.

I ate some more rice and poked at an octopus shaped sausage.

"Because I left his brat at her school function and forgot to pick her the hell up."

Miroku frowned. "Was it your turn to pick her up? I could have sworn it was your—"

Inuyasha scoffed. "I don't fucking know. How the hell am I supposed to know when I have to pick her up if he doesn't tell me when the hell I'm supposed to go around running errands for him? The bastard."

Miroku and I both noticed the avoidance, but we didn't say anything. We both learned long ago what happened if we did. I certainly didn't feel like dealing with that ice cold, ultra-abrasive attitude that he would be throwing in our directions, after all, and it was hard. Hard being hated by Inuyasha. It hurt to think of it, just as much as it hurt to know that Miroku hated me. Well, he probably didn't hate me, but it was just as much. It didn't feel nearly as bad as with Kohaku… with him it felt like I was detached, broken, healed, drowning, and breathing all at the same time. It was weird, breathing but not breathing. Drowning but not drowning. Being broken but not fixed. All of my emotions just seemed so overly complicated and… and I wasn't sure what to do.

I picked at my lunch some more, and Inuyasha cursed his brother into the furthest reaches of hell some more, and after a moment, left both Miroku and I alone together.

I was surprised to be honest.

He hadn't even asked about Kagome.

Inuyasha usually did.

Miroku had that odd look on his face again, and I almost thought that he was thinking the same thing that I was, but when I ate the fake octopuses from my lunch, the look disappeared and he turned towards me, his eyes dark and his expression less than grim.

"I should be going now," he said, inclining his head towards me. "Have a nice day, Sango."

And he left. Just like that.

The hustle and bustle of the main room floated down the hall, and I felt like screaming. I suddenly didn't feel like eating, suddenly didn't feel like working, but I knew how Miroku felt about wasting food, and although everything felt like giant blobs of grease going down my throat, I ate it all anyways, because I couldn't disrespect him. I didn't understand how Inuyasha could still put Miroku on edge could still make him worried and bent out of shape, but it _did._ Inuyasha caused Miroku to feel all kinds of darkness that I couldn't even begin to fathom because… because they never told me. Even when I had asked, I had been pushed aside. Ignored. I had half a mind to storm after Miroku and ask him just what the hell he wasn't telling me but… even in a circle of friends, we had our secrets. It was miserable at times, especially when we all wanted something from one another, something that we just couldn't quite give. It was like putting your hands through a pane of broken glass, like being dangled from the edge of cliff. It was dangerous and painful, but most of all, we couldn't push one another, despite the fact that we wanted to.

Not speaking to Kagome or my brother, I could handle. The thought should have bothered me, but I didn't feel nearly as close to them as I had to Miroku. I wanted to be able to talk to Miroku, more than anything. But just like that, he moved away from me. Just like that, he allowed Inuyasha's dark mood to rule over whatever thoughts he might have had, and dismissed me all together. Just like that…

He forgot me.

It stung.

...more than I wanted to admit.

The next couple of hours passed in a sort of semi-haziness, and by the time Inuyasha stormed into his office and shut himself in, I didn't even want to wonder what was bothering him. I was usually up to dealing with him, but at that moment, I was still feeling bitter and didn't feel much like playing the buffer. Whatever the hell had passed between Inuyasha and his older brother was between the two of them.

So for the rest of the day, I did my duties to the best of my abilities. Being a secretary isn't exactly a fun job, but in the same token, it was. I'm not entirely sure why I decided to be a secretary, and to Inuyasha of all people, but I think it was for the same reason that Miroku decided _not_ to be. But thinking of Miroku made me irritable, and when I accidentally snapped at one of the interns that came to deliver the mail, I wanted nothing more than to just leave. I wanted to be home, in my house, away from this place where Inuyasha shut himself up inside of his office and slaved away over paper work and cases and clients, a place where I never would have _dreamt_ of him actually working, in a profession where he shouldn't have fit but… did.

I spent the rest of the work day trying not to think about Miroku, Kagome, or Kohaku, but when the time came around for me to finally leave and Inuyasha meandered out of his office to bid me farewell, I found myself angry and irritable because even though I did what I was supposed to do, I couldn't not think of them, and it rubbed me in completely the wrong way.

"Oi," Inuyasha greeted as he came out of his office. "What's got you all pissed?"

"Nothing," I snapped, digging my purse out of my desk drawer. Inuyasha raised a skeptical eyebrow, and I frowned at him, not wanting to talk. He was like Miroku in that annoying way… he pretended not to listen and not care, but when it all came down to it, he really did. Or, well, at least he listened. Miroku was always willing to listen, but he pushed people towards talking, rather than pushed them away. "It was just a long day, is all."

"The fuck it was," Inuyasha grumbled as he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket.

I looked at him then, the curiosity more than eating at me, and I leaned against my desk as he lit his cigarette. "What happened with Sesshoumaru?"

Inuyasha just took a long drag from his cigarette and blew smoke towards me.

Asshole.

"You didn't ask about Kagome," I said suddenly, feeling a sick sort of satisfaction as he started coughing and hacking. One of the interns paused and glanced towards us before moving towards her filing cabinet. I resisted the urge to laugh at him. He knew the rules just about as well as everyone else, and the simple fact that Inuyasha, the kid-brother of one of the partners was enough to make them ignore it. Not to mention, the fact that Inuyasha was just about downright rude to everyone who came across him. But then again, it was what made him so appealing as a lawyer. His clients liked the fact that he was ruthless when it came to his cases, that he could cut just about anyone down to size, even if they did get more than annoyed whenever he used that tone on them. Regardless… Inuyasha was a great lawyer, if only less refined than some.

A slightly taller silver-haired male by the name of Sesshoumaru came to mind, and Inuyasha must have seen the satisfaction on my face, because he flicked his disgusting ashes towards me with a scowl on his face.

Regardless, it still didn't change the fact that he hadn't asked about her.

"I didn't ask because I didn't care," he said after a moment. "The hell does it matter for anyways?"

I sighed. "It matters because you usually ask about her. And because it bothered Miroku that you didn't ask about her."

"Yeah, well it bothered Miroku that you don't want to talk to her."

I resisted the urge to wince. "Yes, well…"

"She doesn't care, you know," Inuyasha said after a moment. "She just keeps on going like the fact that you aren't talking to her doesn't matter."

I felt like someone had just bludgeoned me over the head with a baseball bat. "Excuse me?"

Inuyasha's lips twisted into that smug, arrogant, shit-faced grin that he always likes to sport, and his amber eyes glittered in pure, unadulterated _glee._

"She's too focused on Miroku to give a shit about your little tantrum," Inuyasha replied with a shrug, but I could tell that he was waiting for any sign of a crack in my shield. He wanted to see me hurt, but that was probably because I had wanted to hurt him. "And Miroku's keeping just enough away to make her even more curious."

"But I thought—"

Inuyasha's face relaxed at that, and he moved towards my desk and put his cigarette out in my ash tray.

A moment of silence passed, one that was strange and awkward, but not nearly as awkward as the silence shared between Miroku and me. It wasn't as though Inuyasha wanted to reach out for me; it was more like… he didn't know what to do with me. Like he was unsure of whether or not to continue hurting my feelings or to stop and act like my feelings actually mattered to him. We never really joked with one another… could never really find it in ourselves to joke with one another. We stepped around one another, yes, and we spoke and we were friends and knew so many things about the other, but the fact that we could never really share smiles with one another was enough to prove that our friendship was heavy and somewhat painful, if not necessary.

I loved them both, Miroku and Inuyasha. They were both so important to me, and the fact that I could just forgive Inuyasha for intentionally wanting to hurt me was enough to know that joking wasn't entirely necessary. If we prettied things up and pretended like the ache wasn't there, then it wouldn't have been real. But… I couldn't help what they did when they were around Kagome. I had seen them with her before… Miroku acted rude and was almost close to violence. His eyes were unnaturally dark and strange whenever he spoke of her, but whatever anger he had felt seemed to have been replaced with genuine affection. Something that made me angry and the anger was something that I didn't yet understand. The affection was there with Inuyasha, too, if guarded, but with Miroku… he spoke of her openly, and the affection wasn't something that he always tried to hide.

It wasn't something that he wanted to hide.

I felt horrible again.

And Inuyasha was looking at me as though I was stupid, but the fact that he wasn't aiming to hurt me anymore was more than apparent.

"It's about me," Inuyasha said after a long moment of silence. "This Angel business is so damned surreal, but it's about _me._ She's here for me, not that pervert, but…" Inuyasha trailed off then, and his face seemed oddly open, his eyes unnaturally gentle. "It's good for Miroku."

My stomach tightened at that, though I wasn't sure at what.

The secret, or Kagome.

I hoped it was just the secret.

"Inuyasha, what—"

"And just what the fuck happened between you and that idiot anyways?" Inuyasha asked sharply, dismissing my invasive question. "You two act like you did back in school."

My back came up at that, and I narrowed my eyes at him, hoping he got the message.

The tiny 'keh' of annoyance showed that he did. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, viciously blowing smoke in my direction as he began turning back towards his office. Dismissing me.

"Just stay out of Kagome's way. Whatever happens between Kagome and Miroku is between Kagome and Miroku." He paused and glanced over his shoulder, an odd look on his face. "But deal with your brother. Seeing him twice in a week is damned annoying."

I blinked at him. "What?"

"He has an affinity for her, idiot," Inuyasha replied. "But like I said, she's more interested in Miroku right now."

And he left. Just like that.

I clutched my purse to my chest, unsure of what to do, of how to act. I mean, how the hell had Inuyasha, of all people, managed to cut me down with a few simple words? Miroku, engaging Kagome in a dance. Kohaku, attempting to join that dance. But it was about Inuyasha. It was _supposed_ to be about Inuyasha. Not about Miroku. Not about Kohaku. But somehow, Kagome had managed to take both Kohaku _and_ Miroku away from me. Had managed to make me hurt without even slinging words at me. Had managed to make feel low and pathetic. Had made me want to fucking _cry._

It was like some sort of sick realization as Inuyasha's words settled over me. I mean, how in the hell?

Kohaku and Miroku. Miroku and Kohaku. And just… _fuck._

I felt like I was on auto-pilot the entire time, not even bothering to say bye to some of my co-workers. I felt trapped, even as I stepped in the elevator and rode it all the way down to the ground floor. I felt sick as I moved through the sliding glass doors, felt like crying as I hit the pavement, felt like hurting someone as I managed to flag down a taxi through the hustle and bustle of the business district. I wasn't sure what to think, but then, I'm pretty sure that Inuyasha had thrown those comments at me so that I wouldn't think, instead, to just confuse me. It was what I wanted to believe. But, at the same time, I couldn't, not exactly. Inuyasha was never one for telling the truth, and it was all entirely possible that he was only saying it to piss me off, but… Kohaku?

Miroku's attentiveness to Kagome was slightly understandable. He didn't want her interfering with our lives, lives that were so interwoven with one another that… even when our relationship was so odd now, Miroku still managed to find it in his heart to stop by and visit me, still managed to stop by with a homemade lunch just so I wouldn't go hungry holed up in that office all the time. He did the same for Inuyasha. It was like some strange, maternal feeling… the need to care for us, the need to protect us, but…

_Miroku's keeping just enough away to make her curious._

I bit my lip and glanced out the window, watching as everything passed me by.

It… it wasn't _fair._ How was it that someone who managed to force her way into their lives could gain their affection in a few short weeks? It was partly my fault. I had been the one to lead her there, had been the one to force her back into Inuyasha's face, and even if she was an Angel, I couldn't help but feel bitter. Before she came, Miroku and I had a fine, if slightly odd, friendship. Before she came, I had Kohaku all to myself. I was able to turn the other cheek while he ditched school and 'ran away' from home, just so he could be with the one person that he pretended to hate and not to care about. Before, I had both of them to myself. Before, I could joke with Miroku and ignore his very blatant advances because… because it was what we did. Miroku and I. Friends but not friends. Just like with Kohaku. He was my brother, but not. After all, real family never hurt each other the way that we did.

I sighed and pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, praying that I didn't break out into tears. I wasn't entirely sure I would be able to deal with it if I did.

When the cab pulled up in front of my apartment building, I paid the driver quickly and moved away, just wanting to be home. The solitude and the loneliness was more than enough to chase away the errant thoughts. I mean, if I was alone, there was no need to wonder why Miroku and Kohaku chose to leave me alone. No reason to wonder why they would leave me alone for Kagome. An Angel, someone who was supposed to be dead. Someone who wasn't really alive. Someone who I wanted to hate.

Someone who, despite everything, I just wanted to be near.

I moved into my apartment before any of my neighbors managed to stop me. I wasn't in the mood for any formalities or small talk. I kicked off my shoes, not even bothering to put on some slippers and moved towards the kitchen, tossing my purse onto my coffee table absently. The linoleum was cold and slippery against my feet, but I tried to ignore that, too. I didn't want to feel the ache that always came with moving around in my house. The desolation. I wanted to feel alone, and I did.

But regardless of that fact, it still hurt.

I went through the motions then. It's always easier going through the motions, especially when I feel so alone. I managed to scrounge up a yoghurt, a fruit bar, and some chocolate chip cookies and planted myself firmly on the couch before flipping on the T.V. Somewhere between eating my fruit bar, nibbling on a cookie, and opening my yoghurt, I realized that I forgot my spoon, and almost angrily, I stormed back into the kitchen and jerked open a drawer and snatched one up. I didn't understand why I was so angry, didn't think I should have been, but then I was eating my yoghurt and listening to the news, and I wanted to cry.

I wanted to cry because I was just so selfish and stupid and there was really no reason for me to be _feeling_ like this, and it made no sense, but at the same time, it _did_, because what else was I supposed to feel like?

I wanted to hate Inuyasha for trying to hurt me, and succeeding.

I wanted to hate Miroku for pushing me away and succeeding.

I wanted to hate Kohaku for not loving me and succeeding.

I wanted to hate myself for being so damned vulnerable, for trying to be stronger, but failing.

I didn't want this pathetic half-life. I wanted to know what it was that made Kagome so curious about Miroku, that made Miroku want to do that dance with her… giving her something, but not everything. Moving away when she got too close, but wanting her to get closer. He had played the evasion game so well, after all. Dropping hints here and there, making you want more, but never really giving it to you. If given the chance, I knew he would have… that was what had made our relationship so odd, after all.

And yet.

I leaned back on my couch and continued to eat my yoghurt.

It was all so odd. Tucking my feet under me, I reached for one of my chocolate chip cookies and watched as the anchorman began to talk about some high profile celebrities that were going to be visiting this part of town. It was all very drab and boring, and I finished off my yoghurt and my cookies before leaning back on my couch and closing my eyes. I had never felt so emotionally strung out before.

Well, I have, but never in one day have I felt like… like someone was deliberately attempting to rip my heart out of my chest. Never had I felt like my life was becoming more and more unrecognizable… my life had fallen apart before, was still shattered in some sick, twisted way, but I was used to living life that way. I was used to dealing with it. With Kohaku's silence. With my detachment. With Miroku's need for constant human contact. With Inuyasha's abrasiveness. It was how we lived ours lives. It wasn't some strange revelation to us all that our lives were in complete shambles. Despite the fact that it was the truth, we pushed on anyways, not bothering to pick up the pieces because why should we? Why did it matter? What had happened had happened… if it wasn't meant to happen, then it wouldn't have, but if it did, who were we to change it?

It was a rather pathetic way of living our lives, but it was the only way we knew how. But… we were all tired of it. And Kagome wanted to help change it. But… in the same token, there was no possible way for her to just _change_ years and years of what we had. She was only one person, only an Angel… someone who wasn't supposed to be alive.

Someone who took two of the people I cared most about in the world, and drew them away from me, without a second thought to how I might have felt.

_She just keeps on going like the fact that you aren't talking to her doesn't matter._

And it didn't matter, because she had Miroku and Kohaku and Inuyasha and—

_It's good for Miroku._

Of course it was good for Miroku, but what about what was good for me?

_And Miroku's keeping just enough away to make her curious._

But why... why...

I must have dozed off, because the next thing I realized was a strange sort of awareness, one that I hadn't felt earlier, and almost lazily, I forced myself through a thick haze. My eyes focused on the clock on my television, and I blinked in confusion. Seven thirty? Had I really been asleep for that long? It didn't matter, not really, because it had taken away some of that ache, that loneliness, and almost lazily I stretched, working out the cramp in my leg. I had half a mind to wander into the kitchen and fix myself something else to eat, but for some strange reason, my stomach was in knots and I felt like puking. I cleaned up the mess that I made of the coffee table, straightened to cushions, and sat back down.

Still, I felt antsy. Almost methodically, I moved around my apartment, straightening my bedroom, my kitchen, the bathroom, the living room. I did a load of laundry, dusted my furniture, took a cloth and some Pledge to my wooden tables. I tried to straighten the pictures on my walls. I rearranged my bookcase, although it wasn't difficult. I had never been much of a reader. After that, I washed my spoon and slipped it back into the kitchen drawer before moving back into the living room, feeling helpless.

And that's when the door bell rang.

It was like coming up out of water for air. Almost absently, I moved towards my little foyer and slipped into my shoes, grabbing my purse and hanging it from my coat rack, just to keep it out of the way. Just to give myself something more to do.

It was pathetic really, to be so anxious. I wasn't exactly sure why I didn't want to answer the door, who I had expected to find. Kagome, perhaps? She had certainly come up in enough conversations and it only seemed natural that she would be the one make me feel so out of it. Well, not out of it, per say. Angry, perhaps, but even now, those feelings of anger and bitterness had diminished into something else entirely. They were still there, but not nearly as fierce as they had been earlier. Loneliness dulls even the fiercest of feelings, after all. Because when I'm lonely, all I really feel is that cold, dull ache. It makes me wish for noise to fill up the silence, for heat to chase away the cold for… for the pain to recede into something that was not quite pain, but not quite bearable. Something ,but not something. Nothing, but not nothing. I didn't want this dull life, this dull existence. Was that all I did? Exist on the outside? Pretend to exist?

I knew I pretended, it was what I was best at, but…

But they wouldn't have sent Kagome over to visit me, especially if she was preoccupied. Miroku and Inuyasha weren't nearly as forward, nor were they as kind. I worked through my own problems, and god forbid if they wanted anything to do with it.

My palms were a bit sweaty as I opened my front door, and the anticipation that I felt dulled, just like everything else.

To be completely honest, I wasn't nearly as surprised as I thought I should have been. Resigned, maybe. Happy, most definitely not. Uncomfortable?

_Yes._

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

It was no surprise to find Kohaku at my door, and it hadn't even crossed my mind to question why he was there. I didn't want to feel relieved at the fact that he came to me, of all people. If I did, it would have meant that I missed him, and if I missed him, then it meant that I loved him. He's my little brother, yes, but…

Or, perhaps, I would have missed him, if he hadn't brought someone else.

For what it's worth, no one can really fault me for what I did next.

I stared at them.

Or rather, their hands.

Which were clasped tightly together.

I don't think I would have felt nearly as uncomfortable if they had showed up not so… intimately. I mean, Kohaku is my brother, yes, but he _always_ comes alone, and if he did have half a brain to invite some wayward friend over, he never gave them this kind of treatment. He never held onto them as though they were some type of lifeline. I felt a sick churning in the pit of my stomach and I frowned at them, unsure of what to think. Here was my brother, at my door, clinging to _another boy._ A boy who was extremely uncomfortable under my scrutiny if the way he attempted to pull away from Kohaku was any indication. But just as he tried to pull away, Kohaku only held on tighter and brushed by me, leading his friend into my house, kicking off his shoes, tossing his backpack to the ground.

Just as usual. Only… he was with someone else.

He maneuvered his friend to the couch and just… _planted_ him there, as though he belonged there. I found it odd, and even odder still, when Kohaku turned to face me. There was something expectant in his gaze, like he was asking for my approval. But I still felt too uncomfortable, too off-kilter. I felt like someone had just scrambled my brains around and handed them back to me, nothing but a gross, disgusting slop that made me feel ill and shaky. My eyes darted back and forth between them uncertainly… just what exactly was I supposed to do? Say hello? Introduce myself? Offer him some tea and cake? I wanted to know what Kohaku was asking me—the last time we had spoken to one another, we had parted on less than amicable terms, and that's just putting it lightly.

I removed my gaze from Kohaku's face and looked at the other boy—they seemed to be around the same age, and judging by their uniforms, they went to the same school, but _still._ What the hell did they want from me? I had just turned to ask Kohaku that very question when suddenly, something just _clicked._

I looked at his face.

And gods if he didn't look like the one person who I had been avoiding for a whole week, gods if he didn't look like the boy version of Kagome. Something painful churned within me, something I wasn't quite ready to deal with yet. Kohaku had brought him here with one intention in mind… something I was uncertain of, something that made me want to just close my eyes and sleep forever and yet… I couldn't.

So I said the first thing that came to my mind.

"You… you look just like Kagome."

And then, something just _happened._

It was surreal, frightening, and that awareness that had settled over my mind earlier was suddenly creeping in. The look on the boys face hadn't changed one bit since he walked into my house, but something in Kohaku did, because he was looking at me so _fiercely…_

"You're such a fucking _idiot_!" Kohaku snapped.

He froze. I froze. The strange boy-Kagome froze.

Then, "_Kohaku._"

It was so _scary_ hearing that boy's voice. It was so soft, so tired. But there was something there, something that held a power over my younger brother. I didn't know what to think when the boy-Kagome held out his hand, not even when Kohaku moved towards him cautiously and grasped it. Kohaku must have been just as confused because he had this odd look about him, a look that I couldn't even begin to comprehend. The strange boy-Kagome squeezed Kohaku's fingers tightly and then looked at his feet, and I wondered if he was crying.

But I didn't think to care.

I couldn't. I didn't want to.

But I was numb.

_Kohaku had never cursed at me before._

It was just so… unlike him. But I was still numb.

I thought about earlier, when Inuyasha had told me about him. I thought about earlier, when Miroku was walking on eggshells around me. I thought about Kagome. And I wondered, because I wasn't supposed to feel this way. I thought about shattered glass and standing in crowded rooms and jobs filled with gray smoke and it just all seemed too irrelevant to this moment.

_Kohaku had cussed at me._

I wanted to ask him if he hated me. I wanted to ask him when he started to. I wanted to hurt and be hurt, but I wanted him to want me as his sister, and now… _now_, I realized what he was doing. Realized what he was feeling. And… and…

He was giving me a replacement.

I felt filthy, defiled. Wondered if the boy did, too. But then… he had reached out for my brother after all, had wanted to hold onto his hand, wanted to draw on some of Kohaku's non-existent strength. It was almost laughable the way Kohaku had lied to him, had severed me. Didn't boy-Kagome see it? Didn't he feel it? Didn't he—

"You knew my sister?" the Boy-Kagome asked.

I frowned. "If Kagome Higurashi is your sister, then yes, I know her."

The Boy-Kagome shifted, pressed his knee against Kohaku's. A small smiled flittered across Kohaku's face then, and all I could think of were bitter thoughts of myself.

Why was he using us? Why would he do that? Did he hate me so much that he didn't want to be near me? Did he… did he… did he really not want me anymore? And if he was replacing Kagome for me, did that mean that this Boy-Kagome was replacing me for Kagome? I felt a dirty taste in my mouth, and I could feel my stomach twist unpleasantly. Just what the _fuck_ were they playing at? Why the hell would they do something so heartless? Something so _cruel?_ What was it about us that made them hate us so? Why couldn't they bear to be around us? Why couldn't they try harder? Why couldn't they—

"Oh," the boy said softly, pausing. "I'm Souta."

My mouth was moving before I could stop it. "I'm Sango; it's nice to meet you Souta."

Even though it wasn't.

Souta gave a small, brief nod, but still, he refused to look at me.

"You know, Kagome never told me she had a little brother."

There was a strange sort of déja-vu settling over my mind then, and I could practically feel something gnawing viciously on my head, trying to get me to remember.

Souta stiffened at that, as did Kohaku, but the looks that they both gave me were so completely different, so very disconcerting.

"Sango," Kohaku started, the warning clear in his voice, only to be cut off as Souta pressed his shoulder against his.

"How do you know my sister?" An almost painful smile settled over Kohaku's face then, and before I realized what I was doing, I was preparing a pretty little white lie, because there was a palpable silence and an obvious message and _Kohaku never smiles._

I shouldn't have been thinking that, but it was an almost agonizing to see that look on Kohaku's face, as though he were being torn in two, but I just…

"We shared the same alma mater."

Souta nodded, but he was watching me carefully. He had that same near-expressionless look on his face, but I could tell that there was something that was making him uncomfortable. Just the feel of his eyes on me was enough to make me uncomfortable and… he was no longer holding Kohaku's hand, but he was still pressed against his side, from knee to shoulder, and the thought of them both sitting there so comfortably with one another was disorienting. Without even a second thought I moved into my arm chair and draped the folded afghan over my lap.

I was loathe to admit it, but… I felt oddly comforted in that moment.

"Funny," Souta continued quietly. "I never saw you at Sis' funeral."

It suddenly felt like my heart was in my throat.

"Describe her," Souta continued, and there was something vicious and evil and so very _wrong_ in his voice, that I couldn't help but answer him.

"Black hair, blue-gray eyes, probably a couple inches short than me. Slender. Enjoys wearing pajamas with bunnies on them. She's generally a friendly person, but is easily annoyed and will get angry if you push her hard enough. She doesn't like rudeness and will help anyone who needs it. She's a kind person, although she seems sort of innocent on top of it all. And she's…" I paused then, watched as Souta's lips began to twitch. "… twenty-two."

"Sixteen," Kohaku corrected almost absently, and Souta turned towards him. Something odd happened then, when they looked at each other, I could see something change within Kohaku. Almost like something was changing gears. Redirecting itself.

"I never told you that," Souta said gently. But Kohaku was still stuck in that change, still staring at Souta as though he had never seen him before, and I suddenly got the feeling that Kohaku felt overwhelmed. I had half a mind to help him, but Souta was staring at him just as hard, seemed amused at the whole prospect of Kohaku's sudden floundering but…

I clutched the afghan tighter.

"Why do you know so much about me?" Souta asked, and Kohaku's fingers curled around his wrist, pressed into his pulse.

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging helplessly. Souta's lips twitched again, and something almost saddening flashed across his face.

"Oh," Souta answered carefully. "It was nice meeting you, Sango."

Somehow, I didn't think that was the case.

"Are you leaving?" I asked, wanting him gone.

"Yes," Souta answered, his eyes never leaving Kohaku's face. I could almost see when Kohaku finally pulled himself out of that self-imposed stupor—his eyes became clearer, focused, and his grip tightened on Souta's wrist before he pulled away completely. He didn't even bother giving me a look… I knew he was angry. Angry at me. Angry at Souta. Angry at himself. I'm pretty sure that Souta felt that anger too, because his lips were quirking up in grim amusement, as though he was expecting this. Almost helplessly, I wondered if Souta did this to people all the time… it seemed like it, with the cool ease in which he was dealing with my brother, but at the same time… was it really necessary? I knew what it felt like to be used, to feel defiled, and even though Kohaku was using us… attempting to throw us aside… but I had thought that Souta was doing the exact same thing, hadn't I?

I leaned back in my chair, feeling the beginnings of a tension headache and merely watched them both closely, almost afraid to disturb whatever silent communication was passing between the both of them.

Then, Souta stood and turned towards me, giving me the strangest look imaginable. "You don't have any freckles."

I stared.

What was it about this Boy-Kagome that left me floundering for a proper foothold?

"I have to be getting home now," Souta continued quietly, as though he hadn't left both me and Kohaku gaping at him like idiots. "See you at school, Kohaku."

And he left. Just like that.

Kohaku must have felt spurned, because almost as soon as Souta walked out my front door, he sprung up and stormed down the hallway and into his room, slamming the door loudly.

Well.

I guess I couldn't put it off any longer.

I swallowed my pride and called Kagome.

----

(Miroku)

If there was one flaw in the greatness that is Miroku (or what my very honest, but sometimes rude friends would consider a flaw), it is the fact that I don't think for the situation. Instead, I think beyond the situation, and at times, it can be a touch infuriating. For my friends. Not for me. I find it rather relaxing, actually, and for some reason that my friends are unable to comprehend, thinking beyond the situation leaves me feeling calm and serene... if I were to think for the moment, then I would probably be as flustered as Inuyasha, and that's certainly saying something.

Out of all the things I could have possibly started to think about during the trek upstairs (all the while lugging Kagome's dead weight around) I never would have thought that dinner would have been the first thing on my mind. It was never _"I pray to Buddha that Kagome isn't injured," (_after which a thorough observation proved she wasn't) or _"I really hope Inuyasha doesn't have a nervous breakdown," (_which seemed to be the most probable outcome at the current moment) or even _"I hope she's able to wake up." _No. Instead, it was more along the lines of _"Should I make sukiyaki or teriyaki donburi for dinner?"_

While rather callous at the time, it was the only direction in which my thoughts could actually take, and after careful consideration, I found that I was neither in the mood for sukiyaki or teriyaki donburi. No, instead, I wanted Italian food. I wasn't very gifted when it came to cooking said Italian food, so I knew I would have to order out. Which is funny, really, because I was never really fond of 'take out', but I was more than willing to make the exception this once. It seemed a good day for thinking outside of the box, especially since I had a glowing girl draped precariously in my arms as Inuyasha led me to her room, cussing up a storm every time I accidentally bumped her legs into the wall. What, precisely, he expected me to able to do, I wasn't sure, but I was absolutely positive that he was beginning to irritate me.

I always knew that Inuyasha was the type of person to panic whenever he was greeted with something unfamiliar... the first time Kagome had arrived, he had begun to panic. I wasn't entirely sure what for, but I did know that he did. What else would bring him to tears and sickness? His own twisted sick nerves seemed to be the only probable answer. The only logical one. I was just glad that he was gunning for the other extreme—anger. Well, this time, at least.

I wasn't too confident in my abilities when it came to dealing with his depression. While there was always some sort of acknowledgment about one another's feelings, we never truly broached the subject openly. But instead of having to make some poor attempts at comforting my long time friend, I only had to tune him out as he decidedly ripped me a new one. Anger was always easy to handle—I could just brush him off, all the while making him more irritable, which usually ended in him storming off to some undisclosed location and inhaling a pack of cigarettes just to calm his overly stressed nerves, all the while allowing his thoughts to whirl erratically around that thick skull of his until he's had enough of his own stupidity. That's not to say that Inuyasha is, in any way, ignorant but... at times, he does play the part rather well.

By the time we made it into Kagome's room and deposited her on her bed, my second most thought was _"I wonder if she's dreaming." _followed quickly by _"I wonder what she's dreaming about._"

Unaware of my silent musings, Inuyasha shuffled around the room and tucked Kagome into her sheets, wincing as she let out a strange, guttural groan.

Well.

Whatever it was, she was in pain.

I only hoped that the pain didn't last longer than necessary.

Almost methodically I began assisting Inuyasha as he moved about taking care of her. He was careful not to get too close to her... it was weird, seeing him start to hiss in pain the longer he held her, even stranger still, when I was able to take her from him with such practiced ease... yes, the touch of his skin upon hers was enough to sear his flesh, but there was something else there when I touched her. When my fingers curled around her wrist, she continued to glow, but the burn that was supposed to be the there, the feeling of burning skin that was supposed to be black, the unbearable heat, the pain... everything... it didn't happen to me. I almost frowned when I took her in my arms, but that would have made Inuyasha even more worried, so I made my face purposefully blank and carried Kagome up the stairs, hoping that Inuyasha wouldn't worry as much as he was now.

We weren't nearly rude enough to attempt to change her clothes, instead pulled her comforter up to her chin and tucked it around her sides, both of us watching as her lips pursed and her brows furrowed.

"You're worried about her, aren't you?" I asked quietly, and his hackles were rising before the question even processed in his mind.

"_No_," he retorted so violently, I couldn't help but regard him with amusement.

"Hmmm." I was trying to be understanding, but Inuyasha just looked at me angrily, hating my non-answer.

"Cut the crap, Miroku," he bit out, and the look in his eyes put me on edge. It wasn't everyday that Inuyasha aimed to hurt, and I knew that if he continued, he would do just that. "Tell me what's wrong with her."

"If I had any indication as to what—"

"Oh don't give me that superfluous bullshit. Why, exactly is _she_," Inuyasha grumbled as he jerked his head in her direction, "doing _this_ to me?"

I didn't even bother wincing as I saw the blisters decorating his hands. I knew it had to be painful… but pain was something that we were both accustomed to, something that slowly began to dull into nothing. We felt it of course, but the emotional scars far outweighed the physical, and even though Inuyasha had been hurt quite badly, he refused to acknowledge it. Just as he refused to acknowledge his feelings. Just as he refused to acknowledge my reluctance to speak of what he was so boldly pushing into my face.

"Inuyasha—"

"Keh," Inuyasha muttered and looked away from me. Then, ever so quietly, he asked, "Will she be okay?"

My lips curved in amusement. "Ah, I see," I answered gently.

"_What_?" Inuyasha snapped in annoyance.

"Perhaps if Kagome was aware of just how understanding you really are—"

"What the hell are you going on about now?"

I could already sense that Inuyasha was trying to figure out just how to back out of this conversation, but after years and years of being his roommate, his friend, his confidant, I knew when to push. That isn't to say that I continually did so—there was a certain amount of distance that we kept between us, regardless of the fact that we seemed so close. It was highly discomforting whenever someone brought up something unnecessarily… and despite that fact, we were allowing Kagome to do so. She hadn't gotten very far, but that was to be expected. It had only been two weeks… there was absolutely no way that she could heal all of us the way that she wanted to. It was nowhere near impossible, but if she did attempt to chip away at our shields… I could hardly fathom the expression on her face when she got tired of it all. But perhaps that would hurt the most, out of everything. Granted, she wasn't nearly as important to me as Inuyasha or Sango, but…

"Get your head out of the fuckin' clouds, idiot," Inuyasha grumble as he pulled his cigarettes out of his breast pocket. "And stop staring at her with that soft expression, makes me sick, you pervert."

"_Ah_," I replied, and sat down on the edge of the bed. Kagome let out a soft whimper and shifted closer to me. "Now you're feeling insecure."

"If you think you can get away with psychoanalyzing me, then—"

I smiled at him. "Of course not Inuyasha," I replied genially. "However, it is certainly does bring into question just how defensive you're being of her."

As Inuyasha dug around in his pockets for his lighter, he gave me a fierce scowl.

"Or, perhaps, it's just the _memories_—"

"_Fuck you!_" Inuyasha snarled, accidentally crumpling the cigarette in his fist. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about, you bastard, so just stay the hell out of it!"

"If it bothers you that much, perhaps you shouldn't have given her this room," I replied patiently, and it shut Inuyasha up quicker than I had anticipated.

Or rather, it was expected, his sullen fit of rageful silence; after all, he had always been a very transparent person. But… perhaps not transparent enough.

If I had been anyone else, I knew I would have felt guilty. I most likely should have. I was never one to hurt intentionally, except… I turned back towards Kagome's face and patted her cheek affectionately; there was no searing, blistering pain like there was when Inuyasha touched her, and for that, I was glad. The closeness that I experienced whenever I spent a great amount of time with Kagome was there as well—Inuyasha knew it, had commented on it. Sango had seen it as well, and it turned her expression sour. But it was something that couldn't be helped; it was a necessity. I must admit, I wasn't nearly as lonely when Kagome was around, trying to amuse herself, living this half-existence of hers. My fingers tingled on her cheek, and I wondered if she could feel me. But then she let out a small sigh, her eyelids fluttered almost distressfully, and she was still once again.

My relationship with Kagome would be nowhere near the relationship that she was going to forge with Inuyasha; my problems weren't nearly as detrimental as his. I could feel the rot eating away inside of me, the disillusionment with life, the pressure on my lungs as I tried to breathe. But Inuyasha was surely drowning, slowly dying, and not in a physical sense. It was obvious that he sensed it, otherwise, there was positively no way that Kagome would have ever made it into our household. There was no way that she could interfere with our lives. Try to save us.

It was a bit depressing, if I were being honest.

I didn't want to be saved.

Understood, yes.

But saved? It certainly was fitting for a man who has committed the sins that I have.

"Fuck," Inuyasha grumbled bitterly, and I looked at him. His jaw was clenched tightly, as were his hands. Clear liquid was already oozing from his torn blisters, and I could only begin to imagine a pain so small, so miniscule…

"You just get it god damned easy," he continued, the same bitter tone to his voice, and there was something miserable in his eyes that made me pull away from Kagome. "When are you going to tell her? It's so fucking easy for you, you know. She could understand you, but she can't… I mean…"

And he stopped. There was really nothing more to say.

"I don't feel as though telling her that would be beneficial to the situation," I replied patiently. "Remember Inuyasha, this is about you. No matter how hard she may try, Kagome is only human. She can not save the world."

Inuyasha pulled a face. "Angel."

"She's only an Angel when she has properly obtained her wings, Inuyasha. As you can tell, she is in no condition to do so."

Inuyasha paused. Then, "So when she gets her wings, that means she's out of here, right?"

I tried my hardest not to frown. "Yes."

Inuyasha's eyes locked on me then, and there was something strangely intense about the look in his eyes. I wasn't entirely too sure about it myself; how was it that a single conversation could go from strained to angry and to awkward all in a few minutes? I wasn't entirely sure how long we had been occupying Kagome's room, but it didn't matter anyways. Almost absently, I reached out a hand and smoothed the bangs from Kagome's face—in actuality, I wasn't sure when I had become so affectionate towards her. At first, I had been protecting everyone. It was not the stance that I had wanted to take, not with someone as young and as naïve as Kagome, but there was no choice in the matter. _None._

But I suppose that was the problem with everything.

We had no choice.

A bitter smile tugged my lips.

Inuyasha turned away from me, distinctly uncomfortable.

I had the sickening feeling that our little conversation was going to continue on in this vein, and sincerely wished that it wouldn't. Hoped it wouldn't.

The situation was taken abruptly out of my hands when the phone rang.

-----

(Sango)

To be honest, I was a bit disappointed when Miroku answered the phone, but that disappointment evaporated almost as soon as I heard the tone of his voice. I wasn't sure what to think or how to react—how was it that someone could release all of their bitter, angry emotions in one, simple greeting? I always thought bitterness was the one emotion that I had on lock, but as soon as I heard his voice… something in me ached then, something that made me want to reach out and pull him towards me, pet his hair, _something_ that would make me feel light instead of heavy.

Souta's visit, Kohaku's resentment… it was all still weighing heavily on my mind. Yes, I knew that Souta coming over to see me wasn't necessarily a sign… but it only proved to show just how deeply rooted Kagome was in my life. Despite my resolve not to talk to her, there was just no way to _not_ talk to her. In some ways, Souta looked just like Kagome, but in others…

It wasn't until Miroku's polite, questioning voice jarred me out of the thoughts that I realized why.

He was nowhere near as innocent.

There was something cold and detached about him. Something that made his eyes dark and his voice quiet and calculating and—

_You don't have any freckles._

Strange.

What did my not having freckles have anything to do what was happening then?

"Excuse me, but unless I know who you are, I'm going to have to hang up."

But I couldn't think about that now. Didn't _want_ to.

"You should really think about investing in caller I.D. You know, join the twenty first century like the rest of us," I teased, even though it fell a little flat.

Miroku noticed.

"Ah, Sango, what a pleasant surprise," he murmured, as though it wasn't. The sick feeling from earlier seemed to return, and before I realized it, I was clutching the afghan again, hoping that this conversation wouldn't be nearly as painful as the conversation that we had earlier. I knew not to be too hopeful—almost every conversation since that day had been painful. Just this afternoon, we were both playing the evasion game—me with my food as the buffer, and Miroku with Kagome.

Kagome…

"Um… how… is… is Kagome available?"

Miroku remained silent for a brief moment, and I could feel my dread escalating. What if he didn't let me speak to her? What if he told me that she had no desire to speak to me? What if he ignored my request completely? Did he know that Inuyasha had told me? Did he know that I knew how his relationship with her was changing? Did he know—hell, it didn't matter what he _might_ have known, because all that was absolutely certain was that Miroku _knew_ what my feelings were, even if it was just a vague understanding of them. But then again, Miroku knew a lot of things about me, so it was no surprise that he could possibly pick apart just _who_ I was.

I always used to think that he was just a pervert, but at least he was _something_ as opposed to Kohaku's, well, _nothing._

A lot of nothing.

For a moment, I couldn't help but wonder just what, exactly, Souta thought of him. Did he think that Kohaku was a nothing more than a large, dark void? So many emotions to sift through, except they weren't _there_ when I looked for them, and Souta…

Souta…

Souta was the only one to ever make him smile.

I tried my hardest not feel betrayed, but my eyes began to sting anyways.

I wanted to stop thinking, to distract myself, but it wasn't working. What was I supposed to do? How I was supposed to act?

I moved over to my armchair and sat down in it, clutching the phone tightly as I draped the afghan over my shoulders. Miroku was murmuring something to someone on the other end of the line, and I was still waiting for him to answer my question but… but somehow, I knew he wouldn't. Why would he, after all? It wasn't like I was on good terms with Kagome anymore… well, she probably thought that we still were, and I had made her believe it but…

"There's something bothering you," Miroku said suddenly. I could feel my heart seem to skip a beat, and suddenly, my chest felt light and achy and I let out a long, deep breath before leaning back in my chair. The awkwardness was still there, but this was what I used to. The almost-closeness. The relationship that I was beginning to miss more and more.

"Just stressed," I answered softly, and Miroku let out a small 'hmmm' of acknowledgement. "Kohaku… introduced me to one of his friends earlier today."

"Oh?" There wasn't any surprise in his voice. No nothing really. Nothing that showed that he actually _cared_ about what it was I had to say, and the anger was spiking before I could stop it. I scowled and clutched the arm rest tightly, the leather cool against my burning fingers.

"Yes, _oh_," I snapped, and I could just picture Miroku blinking in confusion. "Are you even listening to what I'm saying?"

"Naturally," Miroku replied smoothly, his voice tight. "It's somewhat difficult not to."

"And just what do you mean by _that_?"

Miroku sighed, and I could tell he was slowly becoming as irritated as I was.

But I couldn't help it. It was like talking to dead air.

Like… like talking to _Kohaku._

"Sango, as much as I would like to continue this little… debate, if you will, I must continue to attend to Kagome."

"Oh, yes, of _course_," I snapped. "Because Kagome's been one of your best friends since _tenth grade_ and knows almost _everything_ there is to know about you."

"Kagome also realizes when she's being immature and selfish and usually apologizes seconds after it happens."

I glared at the couch. "_Miroku,_" I said warningly, and he let out a dark sigh.

"Sango, now isn't the time."

"Then when _is_? I'm trying to do something productive, Miroku. I don't want our relationship—"

"Sango," Miroku interrupted a bit impatiently. "We're friends and we're always going to be friends, regardless of whether or not—"

"Oh we're friends and yet you spent the entire week _ignoring_ me. I can tell just how good of friends we are, yeah, I can see it so—"

"Shut up."

I blinked. "Inuyasha?"

What. The. _Hell_?

"Where's Miroku?" I snapped angrily, and I could picture Inuyasha getting ready to snarl. In truth, I wish he would. I was itching for a fight now that my temper had already flared, and if something else was going to go wrong, there was nothing wrong with taking control. I mean, how could they just… just… toss me _aside_ like that? Like it was _nothing_? It was supposed to be just me and Miroku. Not Miroku and Inuyasha and I. Not… _fuck._

"Don't take that fucking tone with me," Inuyasha snarled, and I surged to me feet.

"I'm not a child, Inuyasha!"

"I never said you were, you idiot," he continued, as though he wasn't fazed in the slightest. "Give me a damned break and quit acting like a selfish bitch, Sango."

And that stung. Stung because Miroku had said it, too, and if Inuyasha was agreeing with him, then… then…

But I couldn't just back down because it wasn't. my. Fault. And if I just had friends that actually wanted to pay _attention _to me—

"Anyways," Inuyasha continued as I remained silent. "Something's wrong with Kagome."

I gave a bitter laugh. I couldn't find it in myself to care, I mean, why should I? It wasn't as though it meant anything; there were plenty of things wrong with Kagome. Her being dead, for one. Being so close to my friends. Being close to—

_He has an affinity for her…_

And now he was involved with her brother. Becoming _friends._

_Replacing me._

And yet—

_Miroku's keeping just enough away to make her even more curious._

Was he replacing me, too? Was I that undesirable? Was I that _unwanted?_

"Why should I care?" I asked quietly, and Inuyasha remained stubbornly silent. "Why does Miroku care so—"

"She just fainted out of the fucking blue, Sango," Inuyasha explained so patiently that it left me floored. "One minute she was singing, annoying the hell out of me, and the next she just… she hit the damned coffee table, too, and that exploded as soon as she touched it. And right now, we don't have time for your little tantrums. You're the one that wanted to talk to her in the first place, so get over yourself and stopped acting like some sort of selfish brat. Miroku's doing his best right now, considering—"

"Considering what?" I asked, and I could sense the annoyance simmering under the surface, through the shame and the disgust. I didn't want to feel this way, didn't think that I should have but… but Kagome was _hurt_ and… was I really as selfish as they said I was being?

"It's nothing," Inuyasha said quickly. "Anyways, just get the hell over here; I'm tired of talking to you."

"Fine," I replied tiredly. "I'll be there as soon as possible. Bye."

"Wait," Inuyasha snapped loudly, and I took my finger off the talk button. "Bring the brat, too."

I blinked. "Who?"

"Ko_ha_ku," Inuyasha replied as though it were the most obvious thing on earth. "We're not—whatever, just get over here already."

"Fine," I said again, but Inuyasha had already hung up the phone.

Wearily, I hit the talk button and dropped the cordless onto my chair. In all honesty, I wasn't looking forward to seeing Kagome. Wasn't looking forward to seeing any of them, but… I was beginning to understand, I think. Because Miroku had been so disgustingly evasive, and Inuyasha had been so brutally honest and… it was almost as though they had switched roles, except… there were things that were left unsaid. I could tell by the way Inuyasha repeatedly cut himself off, continually refused to say what was on his mind. I wished I could have told him that, no, I wasn't going to go over there. Didn't _want_ to, but… but I didn't want to be selfish.

I didn't want a lot of things, but it seemed to be happening anyways.

I picked up the afghan and folded it back up, draping it over the top of the armchair before picking up the cordless and setting it back in it's cradle. Just because my nerves were on the fritz didn't necessarily mean that everything else around me had to reflect that. I had a feeling that it was going to, but I didn't care. All I really cared about was…

I sighed. I didn't know the answer to _that, either._

Kohaku's bedroom door was closed when I finally got to it, but I halfway expected that. He was in just as foul of a mood as I was, if the way he stormed off was any indication, but somehow I knew that he had heard pretty much everything. The silence that hung all around me was almost deafening. I wanted to fill it up with just about anything—the static of the T.V., the sound of the radio announcers, the rumble of the dishwasher—_anything_. But there was nothing, and I didn't want to hear my voice. I didn't want to feel tired and weary and _ashamed_, because that's what I was, and I knew that there was nothing that was going to change it.

Ashamed because Kagome had gotten hurt, and I hadn't cared.

Ashamed because Miroku and Inuyasha had thought me selfish, and I was.

Ashamed because Kohaku had _heard_, and yet he hadn't said a word.

Ashamed because… what else was I supposed to feel?

The disgust was there, battling the irritation that I wanted to feel, because still—_still—_we were at Kagome's every beck and call.

Was it a mistake? I knew that Kagome had wanted to get closer to us all. I knew that Kagome wanted nothing more than to heal us, help us get over the pain that was still lodged deep within our hearts like a brittle thorn protruding from my flesh. I could feel the sting and the ache, and I knew it was there, but I just couldn't remove it. Didn't think I _could_.

Was this what it meant to be infected? To let the past run our lives?

But… but just what was I expected to do? There was nothing… _nothing._ There was nothing because it had already happened and there was nothing I could do to change it. Nothing because what I had said earlier… even if I had apologized, it wouldn't erase the filth within me. The selfishness. The vulnerability. I wanted to question why I went off the handle, why I couldn't handle Kagome becoming closer to my friends, to—

But it wasn't about _all_ of them. It was only about two of them.

I didn't care if she got closer to Inuyasha. That was what she here for, wasn't it? It was his problems, not ours, but then why… why would she be so focused on Miroku? What was it about Miroku that drew her to him and _why_ was he playing that game with her? He couldn't care about her so easily, not after everything that had happened between the three of us. He couldn't just allow someone into his life without a second thought, because he just wasn't—

Except, he _was._

Because he had done it to me, when I first met him. Because despite the fact that he had problems even then, despite it all, he had tried his hardest to get me to feel for him. Had tried his hardest to get me to want him in my life. And now that I did… I didn't want to _lose_ him. And that was the one thing I was sure of. But if he allowed Kagome to get closer then… then she wouldn't want to lose him either.

I guess he was just that special.

But I didn't want him to be.

And I didn't want to think anymore. It hurt too much.

Exhausted, I knocked on Kohaku's door.

"Kohaku?" I called, trying to stop the waver in my voice, but I knew he heard it anyways. I paused for a second, but was met with silence.

_Oh well. If he wants to ignore me, he can. It doesn't really matter anyways._

"I'm headed over to Inuyasha's. He just told me that Kagome got hurt, so…"

The door opened almost at once.

"What's wrong with her?" Kohaku asked, and the concern laced in his voice was enough to make me want to cry.

The sting was there, in my eyes, but I ignored it as best I could.

No need to be depressed, I wanted to tell myself. He is her friend, after all.

But—

"I'm not too sure," I replied slowly, and stared over his head and into his room. "Inuyasha said that she just fainted. But he also said that she hit the coffee table and ended up breaking it, so I'm assuming that she was hurt pretty badly."

Kohaku frowned. "She doesn't look_ that_ heavy…"

"Yes, well—" I paused and looked at him carefully. "Did you just make a joke?"

Kohaku glared at me as though I were stupid. I frowned at him, ignoring the ache in my chest.

"Well, I'm leaving. You can come with me if you want, but if you don't want to, then just call Dad and have him—"

"Save it," Kohaku answered sharply. "I'm coming, too."

I nodded. "Very well then. I'll just go get my coat. Don't forget to bring your book bag; we might be over there for a while."

"Fine," Kohaku replied before shutting the door in my face.

I let out a long, painful sigh.

"Fine," I muttered into the silence.

But I didn't just stand there. I went and got my coat instead.

-----

Inuyasha was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette by the time we finally arrived. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me, something that left me feeling disoriented and self-conscious, so I ignored it and turned to Kohaku, who was standing behind me, staring at Inuyasha listlessly.

"Hey, brat," Inuyasha muttered affectionately, flicking his ashes at me. "She's upstairs, second bedroom on the right."

Kohaku nodded his head. "Thanks," he muttered tonelessly, and I couldn't stop myself from flinching.

They both noticed.

"Oh, yeah," Inuyasha continued as Kohaku moved passed him. "Don't touch her."

Kohaku frowned. "Why not?"

Inuyasha snorted in disgust and dropped the cigarette to the ground, putting it out beneath his shoe. "What, you some kinda pervert? Just don't fuckin' touch her, got it?"

Kohaku was silent for a moment, his expression blank.

"Got it," Kohaku replied, giving a brief nod.

Then he just left.

Inuyasha turned to me.

"I don't want to hear it," I replied quickly.

"Fine," Inuyasha replied with a shrug of his shoulders. Then, ever so slowly, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and placed it between his lips. I watched it with something akin to detachment. I don't understand why he enjoys smoking so much. I mean, I understand why he started, but if he really enjoyed smoking so much, then why did he just waste cigarettes like that? It was one thing to smoke it down to the filter, but he never _finished_ them. Just crushed them. As soon as he was tired of it.

I sat down on the curb and pulled my jacket more closely around me, reveling in the warmth as he dug through his pockets for his lighter.

"You know, if you just kept it in the same pocket you kept your cigarettes, you wouldn't have to worry about losing it," I answered absently as I stared out at the deserted street.

"I do," Inuyasha replied, bored. He pulled the lighter out of his breast pocket a moment later.

I wasn't too sure what to say or how to act, so I just sat there, breathing in the scent of cigarette smoke. It tasted stale on my tongue, and my throat burned as I inhaled it, but I didn't care. I was so tired of caring, so tired of doing _anything_—Kohaku's earlier dismissal left me feeling weak and unwanted. Unwanted. Again. Just as Inuyasha's dismissal of my feelings left me weak. Just as Miroku's did. Almost wearily, I rubbed my eyes and leaned forward on my arms. Stared at the black pavement. At the rocks. At the big slab of nothingness before me.

I wondered if it ever got tired of being walked on, too.

"You know," Inuyasha answered after taking a few pathetic little puffs on his cigarette. "You really are a pain in my ass."

"Speaking of which," I continued, brushing off the almost affectionate insult. "Would you like to tell me when you and Kohaku became such great friends?"

"He's just a brat that pisses me off, is all." Inuyasha took a long drag. "Since when did you care?"

"Since he stopped looking at you the same way he looks at me."

Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably.

I smiled grimly. "But don't think too much on it, Inuyasha, I guess… you're close to Kagome, so it's understandable that he would start to like you so much. Everything Kagome does now, matters to him. Hell, I bet—"

"I don't give a shit about your fucking angst, Sango," Inuyasha bit out, his amber eyes shimmering with annoyance. "You're twenty-five, for fucks sake. Act like it."

"Is that your way of telling me to just forget—"

"Oh, just shut up already!"

I did.

Inuyasha did.

But his fingers curled around mine, and I felt lighter.

Hell, it wasn't everyday Inuyasha allowed himself to get touchy feely.

I resisted the urge to frown and laugh and throw-up all at the same time. It seemed Kagome was good for them after all.

…

I hated it.

-----


	11. Chapter Nine, Part Two

**A/N: **Look at that, I kept a promise for once. Yay.

* * *

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CHAPTER NINE**

**PART TWO**

* * *

For Kohaku, the ride to Inuyasha's house had been unbearably tense and only served to bring about thoughts that he didn't want to think. He _thought_ he had left them back at his sister's apartment, but the longer he and Sango sat together, the quicker the dark intrepid thoughts invaded his mind, and by the time they reached their stop and clambered out of the taxi, Kohaku's mood was headed beyond foul, towards something black and unwanted. Kohaku wanted Sango to notice, but he didn't think she would. She didn't seem to notice much of anything, except for Miroku, Inuyasha, Miroku, sometimes Kagome, Souta, and oh, let's not forget, Kohaku thought darkly, _Miroku._

He wasn't too sure why it was bothering him now; it certainly never bothered him before, in retrospect. He thought it had, long ago, when he was younger and more susceptible to the cold emotions that his sister repeatedly foisted upon him, as though they were nothing. He had thought that there would have been a time when his sister loved him for _him_, cared for him the way that she was supposed to; he thought that there had been a time when she had _fun_ with him, but ever since he could remember, which, admittedly, wasn't a very long time, Sango had been cold and distant and wanted nothing more than for Kohaku to disappear.

And he had wanted to at some point. Wished he could.

Years ago, when Sango had finally gotten the courage to move out of the house and leave him with his parents, Kohaku had thought it had been the end of all the pain and devastation that he was going to feel. There was something in his heart, something that ached and burned and most likely bled, because in the back of his mind, he _knew_ that Sango had loved him once. Had wanted his safety. But then she was gone, and he was grateful, and he didn't know what else he could have been. Of course, the loving attitude that his parents had once felt for him (supportive, kind, hopeful) had quickly disappeared into nothingness, and the pit of despair that had swallowed him up so crassly when Sango had lived with him had returned ten-fold and it was all he could do to get away.

And his parents never stopped him. Not once.

He didn't know why he had chosen Sango all those years ago. He didn't know why he had run to her, but when she opened her door to him, when she had ushered him in with a look of shock on her face, the blackness had come tumbling back in; he had felt the sting of tears in his eyes, and when she reached towards him for the first time in… in… (_when was the last time she had pretended to care?_ He thought bitterly, his fist clenching by his sides) the humiliation had spiked painfully, and the tears stung his eyes.

Kohaku locked himself in the guest bedroom and didn't come out for the rest of the day.

And Sango didn't press him, even when he knew she wanted to. At the beginning, it had been an unwanted constant, seeing that questioning and guiltless look in her eyes, but as the years passed, she grew more and more wary of ever asking him a question until, one day, she simply stopped caring. She had opened the door, let him in with an annoyed sigh and retreated to kitchen to eat.

And even then, Kohaku couldn't understand the bitterness that coursed through him at Sango's blatant dismissal. There was anger and resentment, yes. But more than anything, Kohaku realized one simple, lonely truth as he stood in her foyer, staring at the empty space that she used to occupy.

Sango didn't care anymore.

Kohaku's lips twisted unpleasantly and he glared at the floor, toeing his shoes off.

For some inane, unfathomable reason, he felt extremely and utterly _gypped._

Even now, as he sat in the taxi next to her, the tension was almost unbearable and he wanted to ask her just what she was so upset about, but then the car was pulling to a stop and Sango was handing over money. Almost methodically, he got out of the car, that evil hateful voice in his head telling him that, once again, he had been cheated out of something important when he finally noticed Inuyasha sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.

Inuyasha flicked ashes at Kohaku almost as soon as he noticed them, and the only thing Kohaku could think was, "_How wasteful._"

Too bad Inuyasha wouldn't be too inclined to agree.

"Hey brat," he muttered, something in his voice putting Kohaku on edge. "She's upstairs, second bedroom on the right."

"Thanks," Kohaku mumbled warily, nodding. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sango flinch, and a dark feeling swelled within him, unrecognizable, but oh so very welcome.

He stood there for a moment longer, listening to Inuyasha prattle on about something inconsequential, and he answered in that same toneless voice that made his sister's face drain of color every time he used it, but only felt a sliver of smug appreciation at the fact that his sister was uncomfortable. It lasted until he reached Kagome's room.

Miroku was there, sitting at the end of her bed and staring blankly into nothing, his face tight and pensive. There was a line crinkling his brow, and there was just something—_off_, Kohaku decided as he stared at the older man, waiting for him to finally notice him standing there. Not that he really wanted Miroku to notice him. The older man still put him on edge, despite how many times he had seen him in the past week. There was something unbearably overwhelming about him, something that caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up and goose pimples to rise on his skin whenever Miroku looked at him with his dark, all-knowing eyes. Why Sango found him so innately appealing, Kohaku couldn't even begin to fathom. Why Sango couldn't see that Miroku was so obviously intent on gaining her favor, Kohaku couldn't understand either. There was nothing about his sister that Kohaku found appealing anymore, except that it was easy to hate her.

It was easy to hate anyone these days, he thought, anyone except for Kagome.

And that was the root of the problem, really.

Because when he thought about it, he didn't hate _Souta_, _either._

_Even if he did reject him._

And Souta… well, Souta was someone he wasn't so sure about anymore. He was positive that everything would have gone smoothly. Positive that everything would have happened the way he wanted them to happen, but then Sango had to go on and be the unreliable person that she was and Souta had to be the unknown variable he was and everything had just blown up in his face.

Kohaku wasn't too sure what to think about that.

Perhaps it was because he had pegged Souta to act so much like Kagome. Yes, they shared physical similarities, but…

Emotional was another problem all together. Kohaku had half a mind to ask Kagome just what, exactly, her brother was like but she was laying there, pale and frail and breakable, and Kohaku could only think of ink and paper and buried tattered thoughts that meant nothing.

His chest grew tight and there was the distinct throb of a headache behind his eyes.

"There's no reason to worry for her well being," Miroku's voice seeped in through the cracks, startling him, even though he tried his hardest not to show it. "She'll be fine."

The haze cleared almost immediately at those words, but Kohaku refused to say a thing. Any comment would just lead the man to make some sort of ambiguous comment, and Kohaku wasn't in the mood for that.

His fingers itched for a pen.

He settled for the achy feeling in his heart and Miroku's discomfiting stare instead.

* * *

The air was stale with smoke, wood, and something else she couldn't identify, but didn't think she wanted to. In the back of her mind, she knew she should have been more wary of the situation, should have thought about why she was there, standing in the middle of sparsely furnished room, trying to take in everything, but at that moment, all she could focus on was not trying to choke on the left over residue of cigarette smoke. It wasn't very appealing, in any case.

The room itself was barely lit, with nothing more than a threadbare couch and scuffed up coffee table in the front room. There were random books and magazines strewn about the room, littering the floor, and on a wobbly looking wooden crate, there was an old, greasy pizza box filled with used napkins and soda cans. Nothing adorned the walls; they were just boring and white, and she couldn't help but wonder whether or not the person who lived here had any family, had anyone who was important to him, but then—she frowned. There was really no reason to automatically assume that the person who lived there was a man, but in the same token, she didn't think it could have been any one else.

A woman would be much neater, surely.

Curiosity compelled her to search the rest of the little apartment, so she moved towards the kitchenette first, marveling at its cleanliness. It was small and white, but cold. The linoleum caused a shiver to dance up her spine as her bare feet padded against the ground, and the feeling of detachment swelled. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, to prove that someone could have possibly used this room for anything other than storing dishes; one cabinet was left open and a large stack of gleaming, white plates glittered at her from within. Her lips twisted into a frown and she moved to close it. Open cabinets cluttered space. It made things look unclean. She didn't know what she would do if it took away from the obvious cleanliness—no matter how painful it was to look at it—even if the front room looked like a tornado passed through it.

Her fingers touched the wood, and her body went hot.

Alarmed, she jerked back and stared at her fingers. _What… what on earth was that?_ She thought, staring at her dry, cracked, bleeding fingers. For a brief moment, the blood fascinated her—_It's so, so beautiful_—but then the horror was slowly creeping in, bearing down on her, suffocating her. Enclosing her. The pain danced up her nerves, pinching and pulling and tearing, and she could feel the tears leaking out of her eyes and down her face. The blood was warm on her fingers, but her body felt cold then, felt… something. Not beating. Not flowing.

_Not alive._

Her throat tightened as the blood dripped from the tips of her fingers and her shoulder blades ached something _terrible_ and—

The blood dissolved once it hit the floor.

"What?" She whispered into the foreboding silence, her voice cracking. She drew her fingers to her and pressed them into the hem of her shirt, not noticing that the blood dissolved on _that, too_, and stared down at the tiled counters. "What is going _on_ here?"

There was no answer.

Somehow, that just didn't seem fair.

Slowly, cautiously, she crept out of the little kitchen and moved through the front room, once again assaulted by the scent of stale cigarette smoke and burnt wood (and probably old pizza grease, now that she thought about it). Her throat tightened in protest and her stomach flipped unpleasantly—she could feel her stomach twisting and the bile rising in the back of her throat. She moved through the living room as quick as possible, the carpet scratching the soles of her feet uncomfortably.

The first room she stumbled upon was the bathroom, and it stank of cigarette smoke and urine, just a bit. It wasn't too overpowering to be nauseating, but it was enough that she couldn't bring herself to step into it. It _looked_ clean enough, but she didn't want to chance it. Nice white fluffy towels hung from the towel rack neatly, and next to the sink, there was a bar of soap, a razor, and a single red toothbrush with a tube of toothpaste, and that was all she could see. It was definitely a male's house, if the razor was any indication, so she moved away from the bathroom, unable to take the strange smells any longer.

The door at the end of the tiny hallway was ajar, so she moved down the hallway once again, the carpet scratching against her feet, but she tried her hardest to ignore it. The scent of cigarette smoke grew almost unbearable as she reached the last room, and her nose wrinkled in dissatisfaction as she moved through the doorway, careful not to touch anything.

There wasn't anything spectacular about the last room. It was just as sparsely furnished as the living room, except there were two besides tables and a plant. Her brow furrowed at that—the room was close to pitch black, just as barely lit as the living room, and whoever lived there was taking care of a _plant._ Somehow, she could see the poor little fern dying in the near future. The blankets on the bed were rumpled and looked as though someone had just slept in it; the sheets were hanging off the side of the bed and pooled on the floor, while the wooly, scratchy comforter was merely kicked to the end of the bed. There were four pillows in all, each of them a strange, crimson red, and almost absently she glanced down at her cracked fingers, relieved that they had stopped bleeding.

There was a pile of dirty clothes shoved into the corner of the room, overflowing the hamper, spilling out of the closet. _Disgusting,_ she thought as she padded through the room, looking for something else that could possibly identify the person who lived there.

The only thing she could find was an ashtray overflowing with ash and old cigarette butts.

Not promising in the least.

She turned away from the sparse room and moved into the hallway, unsure of how else to proceed. The front door had been shut tight, and after what happened in the kitchen, she wasn't even going to attempt to touch it. Gods know what would happen to her if she attempted _that._ The tips of her fingers throbbed at the memory, and almost absently, she drew her index finger into her mouth, the cracked dry skin scraping against her tongue as she suckled it.

In the back of her mind, she knew that there was something going on, something that she should have remembered, but—but…

Just what, exactly, was she supposed to remember? It caused her spine to itch and her shoulder blades to ache, but she ignored the feeling, instead pulling her index finger out of her mouth to suck on her middle finger.

And promptly froze.

Her eyes widened.

_Who?_ She thought, because this was not what she had expected.

Because standing there, in the process of toeing off her heels was the most beautiful, elegant woman she had ever _seen. _Her hair was black, yet shiny, and ran in thick, gorgeous waves down her back. Her skin was pale and clear—there didn't seem to be a single blemish on the woman's face at all, and at once, the girl felt slightly envious of her. Her eyes were a dark, reddish-brown, and her eyelids were dusted with the smallest amount of rose eye shadow, making her seem even more feminine, but still exuding a quiet confidence that the girl, herself, didn't think she had. The woman was dressed immaculately in a crisp black suit, her skirt reaching her knees.

But _god_, did she have perfect legs.

The girl frowned and looked away, unable to stare at this picture of perfection any longer.

And then she heard her voice.

"Inuyasha?" And it was soft, yet stiff and hard, and something in her chest constricted because—

_Inuyasha?_ The girl's eyes widened.

Oh, she thought blankly, turning to stare at the woman as she gave a small sigh, staring at the mess in front of her. Oh oh oh oh _oh._

For some reason, the thought that Inuyasha could know such a gorgeous woman left her feeling giggly and incredulous. He just… didn't seem the type of person to really associate himself with people like that. Didn't seem the type to give someone a _key_ to his _apartment_, and already, it spoke volumes to the girl. But the woman was moving around and throwing open windows, allowing nice, crisp clean air to filter into the room. It didn't do much, except to add to the myriad of unpleasant smells that clung to the walls and the fabrics in the room, but it helped, just a little. She found that her lungs didn't hurt nearly as much, and she didn't feel like vomiting, but still, there was a discomfiting feeling rising in her chest.

She found she didn't like it.

The woman continued to move around the room, organizing books and cleaning up the dirty napkins and greasy pizza box, not even caring that the dirty grease was beginning to smudge on her perfectly slender fingers, nor that, as soon as she deposited it into the trash can, it streaked on her skirt as she swiped her fingers over the material.

The woman moved back into the living room, planted her hands on her hips, and stared at the room appraisingly.

"So filthy," she stated, before sweeping her eyes over the room.

The younger girl froze as the woman's eyes swept over her, and lingered.

There was something extremely and utterly _unbearable_ about the stare, something made her inside wiggle uncomfortably, and she was shrinking back, away from it, but then the woman was moving forward, _towards her_ and—_oh no, oh no, oh no! Please don't let her hurt me, please don't let her—_the woman brushed passed her without a second glance, and air between them _crackled_ painfully. The pain lanced up her arm, through her neck, up the side of her face. The skin near her eyes felt tight, uncomfortable, and she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to cry, willing herself not to break out in tears.

She could feel her skin cracking, and it was positively _agonizing._

The first trickle of blood caused her to whimper in horror, and the second caused the skin on her back to tighten painfully, _horribly_, and then the tears were there, stinging her dry cracked skin, _burning it._ And oh, _gods,_ she thought, her fingers pressing painfully against her eyelids. _Why does this hurt so bad?_

She teetered over to the wall, pressed her burning face against it, hoping for some sort of respite. Some sort of release from the pain.

But the feeling escalated, and her face was _hot_, and she was shrieking but trying not to, and before she realized it, she had catapulted herself away from the wall, towards the floor, and sank miserably down towards the scratchy carpet, hoping upon hope that the pain wouldn't last any more.

It did.

Huge racking sobs caused her body to lurch as she pressed her forehead into the carpet, wishing that there was something, _anything_ that could take this pain away. That would make her feel… feel… _alive_, her mind whispered to her traitorously, and she let out a loud, guttural moan as her tears hit the carpet, dissolving as soon as they touched the fibers. In the back of her mind, she was chastising herself for being so weak, for being so easily pained but… she couldn't help it. She had felt pain before, she knew she had, but it was nothing like this.

_Never like this._

But whether it was from the way her nerves continued to twinge excruciatingly, or the fact that she was bounding up and away as the woman came back into the living room, she couldn't even begin to fathom why she had thought that. It didn't make any sense, after all.

But the woman stopped and stared at the carpet, a frown causing her forehead to crinkle, and the errant thought faded into the back of the girl's mind once again.

There were more important things to attend to, after all.

Brusquely, she rubbed at her tears and bit into her lower lip as the skin pulled and cracked further, but she ignored the way the blood flowed sluggishly down her face. It wouldn't have bothered her if it hadn't been so sticky and warm. The girl wanted to reach her hand up and wipe the blood away, but she knew that it would only cause her further pain, knew that it was useless, knew that it was—

The front door slammed open, and the woman turned.

The figure in the doorway froze. Then, "What the hell are you doing here?"

The girl couldn't see her, but she was almost positive that the woman's lips lifted in amusement.

"Cleaning," she offered, by way of response.

The man in the door way snorted. "Whatever. Make sure you tell your brother you were here before you leave. He gets all pissy when he has no idea where you are."

The woman lifted her arms and crossed them at her breasts, her head tilting to the side slightly. "Miroku's mood swings are none of my concern." There was a pause, and the girl moved forward, unable to take seeing just _one-side_ of the conversation. She didn't know why, but _his_ face was much more painful to look at then _her_ face, and she positioned herself in the middle—close enough to see, but far enough away to avoid contact—and just watched.

It was enlightening, to say the least.

There was something warm in the woman's eyes, something that had not been there before, something that made her feel left out and oddly jilted when she saw the same, warm look on _his_ face on… _Inuyasha_, her mind supplied unhelpfully. Her mind went a bit fuzzy from her pain.

"You were at the hospital again, weren't you?" the woman asked, moving forward, but the man—_no, Inuyasha_—avoided eye contact and immediately bent down to unlace his shoes, tossing them against the wall in obvious frustration.

"It's none of your damned business," Inuyasha grumbled, glaring at the woman. "Besides, you still haven't answered my damned question."

"I'm aware of that," the woman replied, uncrossing her arms and placing them on her hips. "You're being evasive again."

Inuyasha let out a low, harsh laugh and shook his head, grabbing his house slippers and putting the on. "Yeah, great. Why don't you go bother Miroku? He'd be more receptive to your presence, in any case."

"Is that your way of telling me that you don't want anything to do with me?" And the woman was positively radiating dark amusement. The girl wasn't sure what to do.

"I…" Inuyasha trailed off uncertainly, and his face was hard. His eyes, so pretty and amber, glittered strangely, before his eyelids slid mercifully closed, and he let out a long, sharp sigh of annoyance. Or, well, at least that's what she thought. The girl was used to seeing Inuyasha be so… so… reticent, but the fact that he wasn't doing it now, the fact that he was allowing his face to crumble and was just so… _open_ caused her heart to ache painfully and tears to well in her eyes. Her spine started itching, but she ignored it, instead moved closer.

"No," he mumbled after a long, tense moment of silence, and the woman moved towards him once again. Reached out a hand. Touched his hair. Gently, softly. Somehow, the girl felt as though she were intruding, but she just couldn't tear her eyes away. The woman's hand moved in long, slow strokes through Inuyasha's thick beautiful hair.

Her chest tightened. She didn't want to be jealous, didn't think she could be, but it was there, growing bigger and bigger and bigger until her eyes were beginning to sting again. She didn't want to see this anymore, didn't want to be there but she didn't know how to get _out_, didn't know how to leave and she was _stuck. _She didn't want to be. She wanted to be anywhere but there. Anywhere but standing in that room, watching as Inuyasha allowed someone to get close to him, someone who wasn't _her_ because—

They were always so difficult and yet…

Inuyasha had looked older when he was with her, but not by much. Not _nearly_ as much, and the thought stung.

He wasn't nearly as standoffish as he led her to believe. But if that were the case, why… why would he…

A dark, ferocious anger curled into her chest, and it was all she could do not to scream.

She _hated_ this feeling.

"How is she feeling?" the woman asked, unthreading her fingers from Inuyasha's hair.

Inuyasha snorted and looked away. "How the fuck do you think she's doing? She's still in a… she's still…"

"Unresponsive?"

Inuyasha made a strange sound in the back of his throat and shook his head, rising to his feet.

"The doctor's say that… her condition is…"

"Getting worse," the woman supplied, and something so horribly anguished passed over Inuyasha's face that the girl felt as though her lungs were crushed.

What… what had _happened?_

"If you already know what the hell I'm going to say then why the fuck do you keep asking me these pointless questions?" Inuyasha snapped, glaring at his companion.

The woman merely sighed, and turned away from him. "Miroku told me you were going to visit her today. I merely assumed—"

"So _that's_ why you're here."

The woman gave a grim smile, and nodded.

"Whatever," Inuyasha muttered grumpily, moving passed her. "I don't need your fucking sympathy, so just—"

"Inuyasha."

"_What?_"

"You will be forgiven." There was something oddly heavy in the woman's voice, something that carried so much weight that the girl couldn't help but frown. Forgiven? What did—

But Inuyasha just stared at the floor, his hands clenched into fists and his body shaking.

"Just… just… just _stay the fuck away from me!_" He snapped loudly, turning on his heel and storming down the hall and into the bedroom.

The girl's eyes widened and she turned and faced the woman, wondering if she had heard the catch Inuyasha's voice, too. Like he was about to cry. To choke on his tears. To do _something_ that would leave him embarrassed and alone and—

She had.

But the woman just shook her head, smiled darkly at the room.

"You _will_ be forgiven," the woman said, as she turned towards the door. "It wasn't your fault, after all."

Someway, somehow, the young girl couldn't help but think that the woman had lied.

It was his fault. There really was no need to pretend.

* * *

Inuyasha found Miroku sitting silently in the living room, staring into nothing, and it caused him to feel anxious.

He wasn't sure why, wasn't sure that he wanted to feel that way, but he was and he hated it. There was no reason to feel so disoriented after all. No reason at all.

His chest tightened uncomfortably, and he pushed away the unease, instead moving forward to peer at his friend's face.

Miroku followed him with his eyes.

"Yes?" He asked, and there was a strange, underlying tone to his voice, one that made him sound annoyed and aggravated all at once. Inuyasha scowled and sat down, his hands moving over the leathery fabric of his arm chair. It slid against his skin smoothly, threatening to send a shiver up his spine and the flat of his palms to sting. The leather tugged at the blisters, but he refused to wince. No need to show Miroku weakness after all. He would just capitalize on it. All of his friends seemed to be doing that a lot, lately.

"The hell are you staring at?"

"Droll as always, Inuyasha," Miroku replied with a grim smile, turning away from his friend. "Kohaku hasn't left Kagome's side yet."

Inuyasha cast an annoyed glance towards the stairs, willing the boy to leave the room faster. It would be better in any case, at least that way, he wouldn't have to worry about Sango's annoyingly acrimonious sighs any longer. Perhaps if his idiot friend wasn't so worried about Kagome, then it wouldn't have been a problem.

Inuyasha turned and stared at the broken shards of his coffee table. He'd have to replace that soon.

"Whatever," he grumbled, ignoring the heavy, long-suffering sigh that Miroku gave. A brief silence followed soon after.

"I think it's time we stop playing games with her," Miroku answered, noticing the way Inuyasha stiffened. "Not that it hasn't been immensely entertaining, but I doubt she'll be able to come out of this… endeavor… unchanged."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Sango's voice cut through the quiet, tense atmosphere that both males had created, and she moved towards them, her eyes widening as she saw the damage that the coffee table took. It was funny when he thought about it, but when Miroku's body stiffened and he watched Sango with those dark, penetrating eyes of his, Inuyasha felt immediately uneasy. Her voice had been sharp and direct then, practically _begging_ Miroku to avoid her question, but Inuyasha knew that Miroku wouldn't have to. Sango was so easily distracted on her own.

"Kagome did _that?_" She asked, her voice going shrilly. "She'll be all right, won't she? I mean—"

"Why, Sango," Miroku started, and Inuyasha nearly groaned. "I didn't know you cared."

Sango's mouth snapped shut, and her face became pinched and ugly.

Inuyasha had to quell the urge to laugh very loudly and very rudely at their disgustingly childish behavior.

"Fucking hell," Inuyasha snapped, scowling at his friends. "Didn't I just go over this with you?"

Sango's lip quivered. A moment passed where she just stared into nothing before she gave a long, hard sigh and sat down on the couch, glaring resolutely at the wall.

"So," she continued after a moment. "What exactly did you mean that you were going to have to stop playing games with her?" Miroku turned away from her, his face annoyingly blank as he stared into the kitchen. "Miroku?"

He remained stonily silent. Furious, Sango whirled to Inuyasha, her eyes suspiciously wet. "Oh that's just _fine_," Sango snapped, fisting her skirt in her hands. "What is he talking about Inuyasha?"

Inuyasha felt dread creeping up on him, and it was all he could do to scowl at her.

"How the hell should I—"

"Oh don't you _dare_!" Sango snapped, jumping to her feet. "If you even _think_ of avoiding the situation… just tell me already! What do you have to lose, it's not as if—"

"It's not my fucking business to tell!" Inuyasha growled, fishing around his pockets for his cigarettes. "Besides, it's not like it's important."

"Oh, yeah, okay, that makes _so much sense_," Sango continued angrily, and her sarcasm was not lost on them. "If it didn't matter, then it wouldn't be such a secret now, would it?"

Inuyasha looked away, the guilt festering within him.

"I don't get it," Sango said, shaking her head, and there was a definite waver in her voice that sent a stab of guilt straight through Inuyasha. "After everything we've done, after everything we've been through you're just going to sit there and… and _lie_ to me? Keep secrets from me?" A brief, agonizing silence passed; Inuyasha's tongue was dry and heavy in his mouth, his cigarette limp in his fingers. He didn't dare look at Sango, didn't dare look at Miroku. He didn't think he'd be able to handle the darkness within them. He had enough of his own, as it was.

"Why?" Sango asked quietly, and he heard her shift, heard the tiny sniffle she gave as skin slid quickly over skin. "I mean, what's so horrible that you can't tell even me?"

Inuyasha's thumb flicked over the end of his cigarette, and he placed it in between his lips.

"I'm gonna go smoke," he said tonelessly. He could almost hear her break, even though there was complete and utter silence.

Inuyasha heaved a sigh and moved towards the door.

_Well this is just fucking great,_ he grumbled, reaching up to pat Kohaku's head as he paused at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the adults with something akin to amusement on his face.

"Why is everyone yelling?" Kohaku asked quietly, looking straight at Sango. Inuyasha continued to the door.

"I… it's…" Sango's voice tapered off and she shook her head. Inuyasha knelt down and began to slip on his shoes. _Just leave,_ his mind kept telling him. _Don't get involved. It's Miroku's business. Don't get involved, just don't—_

"Never mind," Kohaku murmured, turning around and heading back up the stairs. "I'm going to go and sit with Kagome."

The silence wavered on, and Inuyasha felt the guilt creeping steadily closer. Somehow, he knew it was just going to rear up and bite him in the ass.

_Just ignore it, just forget it, not my business, not my fucking _business_, not_—

"Fine," Sango said, and Inuyasha froze at the sound of her voice. "Fine. I'll just go. Make sure Kohaku gets home safely."

And just like that, Sango was slipping back into her shoes and moving out the front door. Inuyasha expected it slam shut. Wanted it to. But the quiet click of it was enough to send his brain into overdrive, and he felt like he was drowning.

"Oh, fuck," Inuyasha breathed, turning to face Miroku. "You really are an idiot, you know that?"

But Miroku was gone, and Inuyasha was talking to nothing but air.

* * *

She wasn't aware when the apartment began to fade into a slush of ugly grays and browns, but when it did, she found herself less than surprised. The area around her was dark, pitch black, and she could feel the skin on her back tightening once again. She didn't know what she was waiting for, didn't know what to expect, so when the pain came—hot and blinding and sticky and _gods_—her throat was ripped in two as her scream spilled up passed her lips, bloody and loud. She could feel the skin ripping, the bone cracking, and the bile threatened to choke her.

Tears clung to her lashes, and her body trembled; _gods oh gods oh gods_, she screamed, digging her fingers into her ribs. This was supposed to be done… over. Hadn't she… hadn't she already dealt with this pain? Accepted it? So why was she… why _now_? She could feel the traitorous thoughts spring up in her mind, and suddenly, there was nothing but a cold, dark bitter hatred coursing through her body. Her chest felt concave, as though something were pushing it inward, causing her ribs to crack and her sternum to break into millions of tiny little bone fragments, stabbing and piercing and protruding from the muscle that continuously ached, no matter what she did.

But the feeling faded, as did the pain, and all she could feel was the sharp aching numbness that had swallowed her body.

_Oh_, she thought, tears streaming down her face. _Oh._

And then they were there again, looping around the thick fleshy pads of her fingers. The tiny slippery threads were like a god send, and it was all she could do not to start weeping in relief; her chest still ached and she could feel the pressure slowly building, pushing against her chest once again.

She grappled with the thread, tugged on it, felt the pull.

Her eyes snapped open.

And, quite surprisingly, found herself standing in a small, white bedroom.

It was charming by all appearances, neat and white with a big oak bed positioned directly in the center. The comforter looked squashy and bright yellow, and for a brief moment, she wondered if the pillows were as soft as they looked. There were little trinkets all over the room, littering the shelves, the top of the bedside tables, the dresser. The closet was decorated with tons of pictures and finger paintings; most of them were pictures of a family, one father, one daughter, one mother, and she couldn't resist finding it adorable. There were toys stashed in the half open closet, ranging from stuffed animals to jump ropes to Etch-A-Sketch's, and for a very brief, very nostalgic moment, her heart ached.

She pursed her lips and continued to survey the room. There was nothing too intriguing about it, really. Just the typical little girl's room. The carpet was nice and squishy under her feet, and she felt as though she would sink down into every time she took a step, but… well, okay, she thought, her lips twitching. A _rich_ little girl's room, even if the size didn't exactly scream wealthy. The impeccable condition of the bed and the furniture was enough to make her think otherwise.

She wanted to touch everything, to bury her face in the squashy looking pillows, but… she looked at her fingers, dry and cracked (but not bleeding, not again, thanks the gods) and promptly decided against it.

Which was a good thing, considering that the door flew open five seconds later a little girl catapulted herself onto her bed, snuggling down into the bright yellow comforter.

The older girl stared. The little girl let out a loud, high pitched giggle and turned over, staring towards the door expectantly. She didn't know what the girl was expecting, didn't want to know, but when the girl began to fidget, getting impatient, she heard the door swing open once again. And then, "Hey, brat."

Her eyes widened and she turned around to face the new comer.

"Uncle Inuyasha!" the little girl squealed, slipping and sliding off her bed and towards the older man. He looked younger here, the older girl noticed, younger and happier and his eyes weren't as dark, but there was still something in them, something that made her chest feel empty and hollow.

She didn't try to place it.

"Papa didn't tell me that you were going to be here," she said, hugging him around the middle. Inuyasha gave her a cocky sort of smile and patted her head affectionately before hoisting her up into his arms. "He said that I was going to go and visit _The_ Lady today, but he never said that I was going to get to see you, too!"

Inuyasha nodded distracted and stared at the room, his expression dark. "Yeah, well…"

"How long are you going to stay?"

Inuyasha blinked and looked at her, shrugging her shoulders. "Only for a little bit," he answered, setting her down. "The Old Man is going to be here later."

The happiness on the little girl's face faded, and her lips turned down into a frown. "Oh," she said, looking at her blue and yellow toes. "That means Papa will leave again."

"To see _The_ Lady," Inuyasha agreed, tugging the little girl by her arms. "But don't sweat it; he'll be back in no time."

"Ah!" She shrieked, grabbing onto his arms and pulling him over to her bed. "I have to tell you a secret! But you can't tell Papa!"

"I would hope that my own child wouldn't feel the need to keep unnecessary secrets from me."

The older girl jumped, her head snapping around to look at the new intruder. And, oh… oh dear _lord._

_He has a brother,_ she thought, her heart hammering in her chest. _Inuyasha has a _brother.

There was something odd in the revelation, something that made her stomach twist unpleasantly and her eyes to begin to water, because in the back of her mind, she knew that she was already aware of the fact. But even so, she continued to stare at him. Even so, she continued to stare at the person that shared Inuyasha's eyes and his hair and his—well, very nearly _everything._

But there was something about him, something that seemed off. Something that made her want to back away. Something that made her want to grab Inuyasha and drag him from the room. Something that made her want to hide the little girl from that piercing gaze because no one could ever be that detached, that cold, that… that _dark._

But he was, and the terror very nearly swallowed her up.

She fell back into the darkness instead.

* * *

Thinking back on it, it probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to do, but as Kohaku sat there, staring at her pale, almost lifeless face, he just couldn't help it. Vulnerability was not something he was accustomed to dealing with. Yes, he had promised Inuyasha that he wouldn't touch her, but she was there with her papery looking skin and the dark purple shadows under her eyes and before he knew it, his hands were moving of their own accord, towards her own.

He didn't feel anything at first, just the soft warm skin of her hands—_not as papery as it looks,_ he thought, his fingers smoothing over the back of her knuckles. And it had been nice, holding her hand. The first time he met her, he hadn't even got to touch her. Kohaku wasn't exactly sure why Inuyasha was so adamant against him touching her, because who wouldn't _want_ to? Her skin was so soft, so smooth, so warm, so—

And then the pain started.

He didn't notice it at first, just the steady increase of pressure and a slight sting of his hands. But then it had increased tenfold, and he thought he had screamed, but there was blood, and he could taste it and he could almost smell the sickening charring of skin and raw, wet flesh, and—

_Oh god,_ his mind screamed as he snatched his hand away, cradled it to his chest. _Oh gods._

He couldn't bear to look at his hand. Couldn't bear to see the bubbling oozing flesh, the huge gaping red wound on his palm. His fingers stung horribly, and he could feel it throbbing, blistering, and he just wanted it to heal over. Just wanted it to disappear. Just wanted to—

The sob caught in his throat, and it was all he could not to cry out.

He didn't want Inuyasha to know that he had broken his promise, didn't want them to know that he was so weak that he couldn't help but touch, couldn't help but _want_ to be closer to her.

For a brief moment, anger blinded him, and he felt betrayed.

Souta had never caused him this much physical pain.

He tried to move away from his position next to Kagome's prone figure, but he found that he couldn't. A sharp, indescribable pain shot up his legs, cramping his muscles, and his stomach lurched.

_I'm going to die,_ he thought as his knees connected painfully to the floor. _I'm going to die._

He pressed his face into the carpet, willing the pain away. But the scent of burnt flesh and blood was so strong, he could do nothing but choke on it. He could taste the vomit already on his tongue, lodged in his throat, but he didn't think he could get it out. He wanted to. Kohaku wanted to feel the sharp relief that came with purging his body, with feeling his stomach spasm and contract painfully, with tasting the disgusting upchuck on his tongue, burning his throat and his nasal passages. _Anything_ to get rid of the disgusting smell. Anything to get rid of the pain. Anything to get rid of the disgustingly sticky blood that caused his shirt stick to his chest, chilling his skin. Causing a shiver to go up his spine.

The violent shaking racked his body, and his fingers clenched.

White hot stars exploded from behind his eyes.

"Oh go-mmpf," he sputtered as the vomit filled his mouth. It was bitter and sick and disgusting, but there was nowhere to put it. Certainly not on the floor, not Kagome's floor, not—

The vomit escaped him anyways, and he pressed his wounded hand to the carpet.

The scream tore through his chest, out of his mouth, and he tasted blood.

Kagome wasn't supposed to be so cruel.

* * *

The darkness didn't come this time, and for that, she was grateful. There was a pressure all around her, pushing down on her, and for a second, she needed to frown, but the excruciating pain that she had expected to feel faded, and once again, she was standing in a room. It was the same room that she had been in before, with the beautiful lady and Inuyasha, except this time, people were already there.

They were all crowded around the coffee table, cards held in their hands, smoke drifting lazily around them.

He was smoking when he heard the cry, and he didn't even stop to think as he tossed his cigarette out into the street and darted into the house, his heart racing.

She moved towards them slowly, her face lit up in wonder—_are they really who I think they are?_ she thought, her lips curving up into a beautiful smile as she recognized her friends. They were all very much at ease, and looked so very young. Sango's hair was definitely shorter than she had remembered it, and instead of the short cropped hair style that she was used to seeing Miroku with, there was a very small and slightly unnoticeable ponytail at the nape of his neck. She had to call upon everything in her power just to keep from reaching out and grabbing it—her cracked fingers stretched and pulled painfully, and she moved back, away from them, and continued to observe.

Sango's eyes were lighter. She wasn't sure why this put her on edge, but it did. And… Miroku's were darker. Far darker than she had ever imagined seeing them. He still wore the same magnanimous expression on his face, even when she knew that his heart was aching that… that _something_ was wrong with him. She wanted to reach out and touch him, but the fear kept her back. It crept along her spine, spinning its web across her chest and around her sternum, keeping her trapped.

She stayed where she was.

But then Miroku's lips quirked up in an ironic sort of grin, and she felt her chest empty out.

Just… just what had _happened_ to him?

"Aw, fuck," Inuyasha grumbled as he slammed down his cards on the coffee table. "I fold."

Sango smiled at him. "Miroku?"

But he wasn't listening, merely staring intently at the cards lying face down in front of him.

She wondered what he was thinking about. In all the time she had gotten to know him, she had never known him to be so… so… _contemplative._ It was strange and awkward and left her feeling so distinctly uncomfortable because… because… it just wasn't _Miroku._

But Inuyasha didn't seem to mind; neither did Sango. They just continued to stare at him, waiting for him to place a bet, waiting for him to do something, anything except for stare at the bright red pattern at the back of his cards.

She bit her lip and fiddled with the hem of her shirt.

_Please, _she thought wearily, _just say something._

* * *

"Fucking hell!" Inuyasha yelled as he slammed open the door to Kagome's room, as the nauseating scent of burning flesh threatened to overwhelm his senses. Miroku wasn't far behind him, peering into the room with a very serious, very dark look on his face. He looked once from Kohaku to Kagome and then to Kohaku again before turning around and walking away.

"And just where the hell do you think you're going?" Inuyasha snapped as he tore his eyes away from the gruesome sight.

Miroku paused in the hallway and turned towards him. "I'm going to call an ambulance, of course."

"Well hurry the fuck up already!" Inuyasha snapped, moving into the room.

Kohaku whimpered, and Inuyasha could feel the sickness rolling around in him, threatening to overtake his sense.

There was blood _everywhere._

But he could see the vomit, clinging to Kohaku's bangs, crusting on his face, and something very cold and very chill arced through his chest and froze him to the spot.

_No_, he thought, his vision blurring. _Hell fucking no._

His heart felt as though it had stopped beating.

* * *

"I fold," Miroku said after a few tense moment of silence, and the girl's lips pursed in annoyance. That… hadn't been what she was looking for. Certainly, it gave some sort of indication that he was still in there, still alive, but that dark, unwavering consistency that had kept her rooted to the spot was still there. Her limbs felt heavy, and she didn't want to move. Sango's lips turned down in a frown, but Inuyasha didn't even bother to worry about Miroku; he merely slapped his cards down on the table and stretched, the bones in his back popping disgustingly.

"Well this was fun and everything, but I got shit to do."

Sango rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah, _sure._"

Inuyasha scowled at her and clambered to his feet, cuffing Sango on the side of her head. "Shut up," he grumbled petulantly as Sango smoothed down her hair. "If you think you can get away with insulting me, you're wrong."

"Right," Sango answered with a roll of her eyes. "If you just want me to leave, then you just have to say so."

"All right then," Inuyasha mumbled, rubbing his scalp. "Get the hell out of my house."

Miroku shifted and turned towards them, his brows lowering in consternation; his friends didn't notice. The girl herself frowned, moving forward, trying to figure out just what was bothering the dark haired man. She could feel the curiosity eating at her, the worry, the uncertainty. She had seen the darkness before, knew she had, but this time it was different. This time it was fresh and new and it kept that blank, unfeeling expression locked on his face.

The girl didn't like it. She found it better when he smiled.

Too bad he wouldn't know it, she thought, stopping near the sad excuse for a couch.

Inuyasha reached forward and took a long, deep drag from his cigarette before turning to blow it Sango's face.

"Idiot," Sango snipped, waving her hand in front of her face impatiently. "You do know that smoking is the leading cause of lung cancer and emphysema, right?"

Inuyasha paused and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Isn't that just the same thing?"

"I don't think it is," Sango answered, her lips pursed in thought. "Is it Miroku?"

But Miroku didn't answer, merely continued to stare into space, his expression dark and his eyes haunted.

* * *

He could smell the alcohol in the air, could taste the sickening vomit on his tongue, could feel the tears in his eyes. His throat felt scratchy, achy, and he wanted to be gone. He wanted to be anywhere but there, anywhere but with Kohaku. He didn't want to see the blood or smell the charred flesh. Didn't want to see the pitiful state the boy was in, didn't want to even _imagine._ He wanted to call for Miroku, wanted to tell him to hurry the hell up but he _couldn't_ and—

Fingers were clawing at him once again, pulling and tugging on his hair. Voices were laughing in his ears.

_No_, he thought, pressing his hands to his eyes. _I don't fucking care anymore. I don't fucking—_

The ooze from the blisters stung his eyes.

Inuyasha wanted to scream.

* * *

"Miroku?" Sango asked again, waving a hand in front of his eyes. "Are you alright?"

She nearly jumped when he reached out to grab her hand.

The girl wondered whether or not Sango was embarrassed, whether her heart started to beat faster or her pulse started to skip, but instead of the strange little blush that she had expected, Sango merely curled her fingers back around his and smiled. It was weird, seeing them so content with one another, so happy. But the darkness was still there in Miroku's eyes, even as he smiled back at Sango, even as he tugged her closer and ran his fingers along her arm. Sango didn't seem to mind _that_, either, and something tight and painful curled about her stomach. Something was wrong with this picture.

They were too at ease with one another.

* * *

"It'd be best if you didn't jostle him too much," Miroku said as he walked over to Kohaku and lifted him in his arms, ignoring the way Inuyasha stood plastered to the wall, his eyes closed tightly. He didn't comment on the behavior, or the tears. Didn't comment on the blood that coated Inuyasha hands, or the way his body was trembling. Inuyasha thought he had wanted to, but instead, Miroku just ignored it, ignored the fact that he couldn't breathe or that he didn't want to—the memories were so thick and heavy, pressing down on his mind, hurting him and—

He just wanted to forget.

He stumbled over to the window and threw it open instead.

The fresh air was like a god-send, and he sucked it in greedily. The scent of burnt flesh was still in the air, lingering around him, and for one brief, delirious moment, he wondered if Kagome could smell it and if she did, would it cling to her clothes and her hair and her skin and would she get sick too? Would the memories haunt her as well? Would she wake up screaming and clawing at her skin? Would she… would she…

But he knew that she wouldn't. Knew it because she was an Angel, someone sent from the Heavens to… to _make him happy _and—

The memories had come too soon, too fast.

He wanted her gone.

But he wanted her to stay. Needed her to.

She helped to keep them locked up, after all.

* * *

The silence was deafening. Too long. Too uncomfortable. They all just sat there, basking in each other's presence as though that was all they needed.

She felt the horrifying need to see that darkness explode; to see what it was that caused the pain in her back, why it hurt for her to touch things that couldn't really exist. She wanted to know why she was there seeing things that were supposed to be filled with darkness but never acted on it. She didn't know why she wanted to see the cruelty within Miroku. There was something there, though, and it made her fingers itch. Itch to reach out and touch something. Itch to feel the burn, even if it caused her pain. It itched and ached and she just _had_ to do _something_, but they were just sitting there, relaxing doing absolutely _nothing_ and she hated it.

Because she was so used to them doing something else, doing something _more_ and—

"Oh, shit, yeah!" Inuyasha said suddenly, startling her. Sango jerked forward, her knee slamming against the table, and she turned to give him a dirty glare. Miroku just smiled.

But there was so much darkness in that smile, so much hatred, so much anger, so much _everything_ that she wanted to feel it curl around her. Drown her. Hurt her.

The darkness continued to taunt her, and she felt betrayed.

"Did you get it?" Inuyasha asked, snuffing his cigarette out in his ashtray. "You said you were going to get it yesterday, right? Well?"

"Did you get what?" Sango asked, unclasping her hand from Miroku's and looking at him curiously.

She could feel the darkness, creeping closer.

It smelled of hatred.

"A tattoo," Miroku said simply. "And yes, Inuyasha, I did get it."

"Well quit being an asshole and show it to me," Inuyasha snapped, glaring at his friend.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sango asked, ignoring the glare that Inuyasha sent her way. Her voice was stiff, frosted over. No one noticed.

Miroku sighed. "It hadn't crossed my mind."

"It hadn't—fine. That's fine. Show it to me then."

A grim smiled flittered over Miroku's face, and he reached for the hem of his shirt.

Her heart lodged itself somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.

* * *

He stood at the window longer than he wanted to.

Miroku had come to fetch him twice, but he simply waved the other man off, opting to stay with Kagome instead. He wasn't entirely sure whether or not Sango would go to the hospital to see her brother, after all, she'd just thrown him into their care as though it were nothing. Like they could pick up her slack. Like… like she expected them to do, since they always did the same with her.

It was strange, thinking of everything like that. But it made sense—so much sense—because it was what they were, what they had aspired to be. They were close, but never close enough. And Sango... Sango had only wanted to be closer. Wanted to understand. Inuyasha knew that she would have been able to, but he knew that it would have been that much harder for her to accept. It wasn't as though Sango _didn't_ love Miroku, because he knew that she did. Just like she loved him. Just like she loved her brother, even though she hated to admit it. Because there were memories there, too, memories that she knew were better left forgotten but _couldn't_.

And that, Inuyasha knew, was why she was the way she was.

He left his dead and buried a long time ago.

But even then, it didn't help matters.

Slowly, he turned away from the window, back towards the sickening scent of upchuck and blood, and watched as Kagome slept, oblivious to the world.

The blisters on his hands seemed to twinge at the sight of her, but Inuyasha ignored it. He wasn't entirely sure what to do or how to act. Wasn't entirely sure why he felt such doubt and despair. Why he wanted her to remain in his life. He knew that she had seen the change, all those days ago. Knew that she had seen him waver in his response to her, known that she had seen the desire to spill Miroku's secret. But it was _Miroku's_ life and not his own and—well, if he were being honest, he knew that he didn't want her to know much about _him_, either.

Things just seemed so much easier that way.

Sighing, Inuyasha swept his fingers through his hair, wincing as the tangles caught and the strands pulled against his scalp.

"Shit," he muttered, digging around his pockets for his cigarettes. "I knew it was a fucking mistake to let you stay with us."

He paused as he lit his cigarette, watching as her chest rose and fell slightly, and gave another sigh.

It was stupid, wanting a response.

He hoped for one anyways.

* * *

She felt the pull on her mind as soon as she saw it. Could feel something pulling her farther and farther away from the image in front of her, but she tried so hard to hang on, so hard to keep it in her line of sight, that she ignored the encroaching darkness, waiting for more. There just _had_ to be more. She couldn't leave without it.

Miroku's skin was pale and white, but looked thin, like paper. She could see bruises darkening his flesh, felt her heart clench at the sight of them, but pushed the feeling aside, wanting to see what was so important. Why the tattoo was so important. She felt the tug again, but ignored it, moving closer.

Sango was the first to react.

"It's _gorgeous_," she breathed, moving forward, a hand outstretched. Her fingers touched the swollen flesh lightly, moving over the black lines on his back, watching as he leaned forward, his shoulder blades jutting out oddly. It was weird, seeing how it looked. It caused a strange, nostalgic feeling to coil tightly in her chest, pressing dully on her sternum, but she stood there entranced. It was lovely, just as Sango had said, despite how melancholy it had seemed. She remembered the flash in his eyes when Inuyasha had asked about it (Inuyasha, who had yet to say anything, who made her back ache and her throat tighten, oh so painfully) but she couldn't understand why. Didn't know if there was a reason why.

The small, black wings on his back were nothing but beautiful.

She felt almost jealous, watching as Sango prodded the tender skin, wishing that she could, too, but settled for moving forward. Settled for getting a closer look. Settled for standing off to the side, on the sidelines, watching as the life that wasn't her played out before her.

She felt the tug, stronger this time, but continued to ignore it. A dull ache was beginning to form behind her left eye, but she moved closer still, careful not to touch anything. She didn't think she'd be able to handle the pain again if she did.

"Oh," Sango said, leaning closer to his back as her fingers prodded his spine between his shoulder blades. "That's cool. Having them come out of the scars. Did you do that or…"

Miroku and Inuyasha went completely and utterly stiff.

Sango noticed.

"You didn't have those a week ago," Sango said, touching the raised, scarred flesh lightly. "How'd you get them?"

There was something in Sango's voice then, something that she couldn't place. It felt hot, but cold. Light, but so heavy. And—she thought that it was thinly veiled anger, bubbling slowly to the surface. _Another secret, _her mind supplied, but she tried her hardest to ignore it. There were never any secrets between them after. Could never be. They were too close to each other, too protective of each other. They loved more than they should and hated others that didn't deserve to be hated, but they never, _never_ kept secrets from each other. There was simply no way.

But Miroku had jerked away, and something in Sango's eyes seemed to fade. She didn't know what it was, didn't even want to guess, and yet—

And yet.

"So who'd you get it with?" Sango asked, her voice tight.

She didn't want to hear it though. She didn't want to hear Sango's question, nor Miroku's answer, because her hands were burning and she was touching something that she wasn't supposed to be touching, hearing something that she wasn't supposed to be hearing. She could feel the jerk on her arm, more insistently, more painfully, and then the ache in her back was there, and she nearly screamed out in pain. But her hands were covering her mouth, refusing to let the scream slip passed her lips.

No weaknesses here. There were none allowed. Not if they could hear. Not if they _wanted_ to hear.

The thread tightened, and the world began to fade.

"Kikyou took me."

Her eyes snapped open, and suddenly the world was crumbling around her.

Kagome couldn't stop screaming.

* * *

His fingers were sticky with vomit and blood when he heard her scream, and honestly, he hadn't been expecting it. The silence had plagued him, ate at his mind, and he could feel something within him rotting and festering as he scrubbed away at the carpet, trying his hardest not to crack. The memories were still there, haunting him. They were vague, disgusting little things that he had no use for, that made his stomach churn and his heart clench, but he tried to work through it anyways. Tried to ignore the mounting delirium that continually attempted to highjack his mind, leaving him weak. Vulnerable.

Filthy.

It nearly had.

Inuyasha hadn't wanted the blood to stain his hands, hadn't wanted much of anything, really, just a way out. The scent of charred flesh seemed to be sinking into fabrics where it didn't belong, and he could smell it in his skin, leaving its unwanted mark, just like everything else.

He felt the heat as it branded his skin, hot and fierce and brutal, but he tried to ignore. Had tried so _hard_ to ignore the way that the desperation kept mounting and mounting each time he scrubbed at the carpet, tearing up the fibers. His arms ached with the effort it took to clean it; the burn was moving slowly down his arms, pinching and pulling at his tendons, laughing as he tried to overcome it. But there were always so many things he tried to overcome, so many things he was supposed to be stronger than, and he wasn't.

He had just poured deodorizer on the carpet when she screamed.

* * *

(Kagome POV)

I honestly didn't realize that I was screaming until I could taste the blood in my mouth, and before I even realized just what I was doing, I had shot up in my bed and was staring at an obviously startled Inuyasha, who was cursing up a storm and glaring at the white powder covering him from head to toe. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe, _maybe_, I had been the one to cause that, but he was pretty much on the other side of the room and I was just sitting there with sweat causing my hair to cling to the back of my neck so there was no way that I could have possibly… but then he was glaring at me, and I wondered if it was.

"What the fuck's the matter with you?" Inuyasha snapped, jumping up and causing the powder on his body to float up into the air. It seemed to settle for a brief moment before it cleared, and I just stared at Inuyasha with fascination. The fact that he was raging mad didn't even seem to process in my head. "I mean, hell, you'd think someone was murderin' you the—"

And then the blood drained from his face and he was completely and utterly silent. I'm not sure how long we sat there—me in my daze and Inuyasha in his sort of terrified silence as he stared at me, his eyes getting wide and his face looking whiter and whiter by the minute, but by the time that disorienting feeling disappeared into nothingness, some of the things he said seemed to filter into my mind, along with all the other smells and sights and—

I very nearly vomited into my hands.

"What's that _smell_?" I asked, gagging. Inuyasha didn't say a word, merely lifted his hands, and suddenly, I was aware of the way they were crusted with blood. Oozing, yellowing blood that made my stomach churn and my head hurt, and before I realized what I was doing, I was out the door and in the bathroom, vomiting the contents of my stomach up.

It felt like a blood vessel burst in my eye after that.

"The hell are you runnin' around for?" Inuyasha asked as he leaned against the door frame.

"What?" I asked as I wiped the sweat from my face, staring at him closely. "What was—"

"Stupid brat doesn't know how to listen," Inuyasha growled. It didn't take me long to figure out who he was talking about.

"Kohaku was here?" I asked, and Inuyasha nodded, turning on the sink. The blood from his hands smeared on the silver tap, but he ignored it like it didn't matter. I knew that it did. But I didn't understand why. I thought that I wanted to, but just imaging his burnt, bloody hands was enough to send my mind into overdrive, and I could feel my stomach tightening again. My throat constricted, and I could almost feel the bile burning it's way up my esophagus, before dispersing again as Inuyasha handed me a cup of water. I drank it down almost greedily, not caring that I was probably embarrassing myself in front of him, or that he was probably going to hold it over my head for all of eternity. But it was awkward. Awkward and wrong and I knew that there was something wrong with the situation, but I just couldn't figure out what it was. I _should_ have, but I didn't. I couldn't tell Inuyasha either, because he was probably feeling the same way and feeling twice as awkward as I was, which was saying something.

But… maybe it was because he wasn't being nearly as gruff as I was used to. He could be a real jerk sometimes, but he was also… well, I'm not sure what he was, but an arrogant jerk was definitely one of them.

"Sango was here, too," Inuyasha said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "How're you—"

"Sango?" I asked my curiosity peaked. "How is she?"

"Just fine without you."

"Just… what? But she said—and I thought—but we had… and she knew that… but I… I mean, it's just… why?"

Inuyasha rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into his breast pocket and pulled out a cigarette. "How the hell am I supposed to know? I'm not her damned keeper."

Something clicked in my mind as he said that, something distinctly uncomfortable, but the longer I stared at him, the clearer and clearer it became. I could feel the threads twisting around my fingers, digging into my wrists, and I could feel that dull throbbing pain on my back once again, could feel the darkness rearing its head to swallow me up once again. And then I could see it all so clearly, everything meshing together, the images so clear and yet so indistinct… I felt intoxicated, like I was drowning. I could almost feel the burn on my hands as I reached up to touch the cupboard, could feel it on my face and I screamed and writhed and—_toomuchpainmakeitgoawaypleasepleaseplease_—cried. Hated. So many things that weren't supposed to make sense, but there was something important there, something that I was overlooking, and suddenly, three images merged into one, and I was still standing in the bathroom with Inuyasha, staring at him with wide, watery eyes.

I was shaking.

He was too busy lighting his cigarette to notice.

"What's your brother's name?"

He nearly inhaled his cigarette, he was coughing so hard. "Wha… what the fuck did you—"

"Inuyasha," I said so quietly that he froze. "What's your brother's name?"

I'm not entirely sure what it was that came over him then, but the shadow that settled across his face was palpable. We stood there in absolute silence for minute, but then he was pulling out another cigarette and moving out the door. "Brush your damned teeth. We'll talk in the kitchen."

I didn't even think twice.

I brushed my teeth until my gums were swollen and suspiciously lined with red before darting down the stairs and into the kitchen. Inuyasha was there, smoking and nursing some tea, which I found really, really odd. I mean, Inuyasha and tea? Somehow it didn't mix. But I didn't really pay any attention to that, because I could feel the wall between us slowly crumbling, slowly becoming something different. But I could see the sorrow. There was a darkness in his eyes that he hadn't let me see, not unless he was with Miroku or Sango. His buffers. The only other people who could have any possible idea about his weaknesses. His pain. They all knew each other so well, but—I thought back to the dream, thought back to Sango's hand grasping Miroku's even as his eyes had overflowed with hate and resentment, and somehow, I knew that there was more there. More that Sango—did Sango know? That Miroku was hiding from her? Did Inuyasha? But—Inuyasha had to have known because… he was the one that had asked. But then there was something about his brother, something about that _Lady_, something about that little girl and I needed to know everything.

It was like this suffocating need that suddenly washed over me, and I wanted to ask him everything, beg for him to tell me, to do _something_ because I knew that it was important. Knew that if I didn't do something fast that I would stagnate and the throb of my shoulder blades made me shake. It was so… so…

I couldn't even begin to describe it, not as Inuyasha leaned back in his chair and tipped his cigarette into his ashtray. "Sesshoumaru," he said so suddenly that I felt off-kilter. I stared at him, blinking slowly and he just looked at me as though I were stupid. "Stupid," he breathed, shaking his head. His hair fell into his face, landed his in ashtray, but didn't ignite. I felt my eyes narrowing at the insult, but before I even had a chance to insult him back, the answer hit me like a speeding semi.

"Oh! Your brother. Right," I paused and fidgeted for a second, and Inuyasha nodded. "So, uhm, how old is he?"

"Thirty-two." I blinked. "Thirty-two and the bastard's already a damned partner. Keh."

The sibling hostility was almost too easy to notice, but I didn't comment on it. I had more questions to ask him. "Well… how old is his daughter?"

His lips curved affectionately at the mention of the little girl, but it quickly disappeared as he leveled a fierce stare at me. "How the hell do you know about Rin?"

"That's her name?" I asked, looking up at the ceiling. "She's really cute."

"How the—" The pause was almost immediate, and I could see the shadow that fell over his face. His body was shaking with rage as he stood, but his fists were clenched so tightly that I could see the yellowish ooze drip from in between his fingers. I felt sick again, but it was nothing compared to the fear that was clawing its way to the surface. The darkness was there again, but in him, and it was manifesting and growing bigger and bigger and bigger and _bigger_ and—

"What the fuck did you see?" He asked, his voice a barely contained growl. It turned my knees to liquid, and it was all I could do to stand.

"I didn't—"

"_What the fuck did you see?!_" He snapped, and suddenly he was in front of me, his fingers digging into my shoulders and…

I was suffocating.

I could feel the glass in my hands shatter as the sight of blood twisted my stomach, and I could feel the cold and the chill and there was something in his eyes, something desperate and black, like an endless void, something I wanted to fall back into, something I wanted to devour me, something I wanted to destroy me.

I wanted to disappear. Needed to.

Because… because it was all _wrong._

There was no way this was Inuyasha, not this person, not the man in front of me whose eyes were so dark that they were watering. Not the guy whose grip was so tight that I could feel my skin yielding against his fingers, the warm stickiness of blood sliding along my shoulder. Not the guy whose body was shaking as he tried to control the rage, cool and icy, but so fiery and passionate. So frightening. So dangerous, so—

"_Please just leave me alone…"_

I felt my body seize up, felt myself go stiff, and it was all I could not to scream out in pain as Inuyasha bore closer to me.

"_Hey, are you—are you all right?"_

_There was pain, hot and blinding, and there was blood, sticky and red, drippingdrippingspilling and not stopping, searing pain, aching hurt, make it stop make it stop make it stop make it STOP—_

"_I _hate_ you."_

"What the fuck did you—"

"Is something troubling you Inuyasha?"

Miroku's voice was like a god-send, and I jerked away from Inuyasha, from that rumbling darkness, and turned around to face the other man.

"I came home," Miroku continued, moving forward. I jerked towards him, but he simply brushed by me and moved towards Inuyasha. The darkness was still there, but it was more alive, more violent than I have ever seen it. I wanted to turn tail and run in the other direction. I wanted to hide, to keep away from the overwhelming emotions that kept threatening to drown me. I wanted to feel the burn of my throat as I tried to breathe water, the stabbing in my veins as I bled glass, the sound of tearing flesh on my back, the— "And I heard you yelling."

I stared at Miroku's back, oddly mesmerized.

"It's none of your fucking business," Inuyasha snapped, glaring at him. "So why don't you just fucking disappear like you did earlier today. Buddha knows you're good at it."

Miroku's shoulders tensed (I knew because I was looking at them), and I could almost see the anger in his eyes. The same encompassing anger that had been there when I was dreaming, seeing something that I wasn't supposed to see, seeing—

"However true you may believe that to be, Kagome is my concern Inuyasha. I can not have you harming her."

"Keh. Give me a damned break," he spat, moving closer to Miroku. Their hands were clenched, but Inuyasha's was the only one that dripped with blood. But Miroku didn't need to. Because I could see it in my minds eye, spilling out over the both of us, poisonous and bitter and disgusting, burning our flesh. Charring it. I could taste the burnt flesh on my tongue, hated myself for feeling that way but—

"_Please just leave me alone…_"

_And pain, there was always so much pain, and it didn't make any sense. But flesh was tearing and ripping, and there was blood and it hurt and ached and it wouldn't stop, it wouldn't stop, it _wouldn't _and—_

"Yeah, well you already fucking have someone to look out for! But you seem to like abandoning her, just like you've abandoned everyone else," Inuyasha snapped, and everything was shifting back into focus.

My lungs were burning as I struggled to breathe, and my legs felt like liquid as I tried to move. There was something, always something, something that was there, something that I needed to pay attention to, and I tried to grasp at it, but it kept slipping away. Miroku's shirt looked black with blood, but it was green, always green, never anything else, never—

"Sango can take care of herself."

It was wrong. So wrong. Completely and utterly wrong because there was no way that there was blood on his back, because it was perfect, perfect, _perfect_, and—

"_I want to die."_

It wasn't the same. It was different, so very different, so very strong, so very _dark,_ and—

"Fuck this," Inuyasha snapped, snatching up his cigarette box. "I don't give a shit what you fucking think, Miroku. You _abandoned_ her. Kagome's only been here a couple of weeks and already you fucking love her more than you ever loved Sango."

Hollow. Empty. Void. Alone. Dark. So _dark_…

"_You'll be all right soon. Don't worry._"

But who did Inuyasha love?

My fingers grazed Miroku's back, and suddenly, it all made sense.

They both froze as my hands settled on Miroku's shoulders, and I could see Inuyasha's eyes flash at me from his position in front of Miroku. I had a feeling he wanted me to move away, had a feeling that he was suddenly remembering what the entire fight was about, but I was entranced I couldn't find myself to care anymore.

I mean, it just made so much _sense._

"It's her fault, isn't it?" I asked and Miroku jerked away from me quickly. "It's Kikyou's fault."

We stood there for a moment, all staring at each other, and Inuyasha was the first to break.

"_What?_" he asked, and I could hear his voice crack.

"It's Kikyou's fault that he—that he… you're a _Fallen._" My hands were trembling and I thought I saw the shadow in his eyes, the anger. I thought I wanted it to devour me, like I had wanted Inuyasha's anger to, but then… _then_… "You're an _Angel._ And it's… it's Kikyou's fault that you lost your Wings. It's—and Inuyasha loves her, and you hate him for it."

I expected them to be angry with each other. Expected them to be angry with me. I mean, I figured something out, something I wasn't supposed to know, something that was so… so easy and yet…

Miroku's eyes flashed and his lips twisted into a dark, almost violent smile. "How astute of you."

It was almost as though he were debating something, the way he looked at me then. Like he was going through the motions of deciding what he wanted to do, trying his hardest to figure out whether or not it would be worth it. I wanted to open my mouth, to ask him a question, but every time I did the question got lodged in my throat. I froze up, stiffened as I stood there, waiting for him to speak again. The anger was so apparent, so frightening.

I thought he would hurt me.

He kissed me instead.

But it was hard and rough and all dark intentions. Simple, but not. I think I froze then, felt something seize up in my body and cry out because _nothing_ was ever supposed to feel this way, _nothing_ was supposed to hurt and scream the way this was. Nothing was supposed to bleed the way I bled, or whimper the way that I did. Inuyasha wasn't supposed to be standing there, pressing his hands to his eyes and cursing up a storm. He wasn't supposed to be worried about what Miroku was doing, because he knew that Miroku was doing something wrong—they both weren't supposed to feel so hollow and empty. They _weren't._

But it was pouring out of me anyways. It was swift, quick, angry, even as he pulled away from me and disappeared. I wanted to chase him, to ask him what it was about but I couldn't move because there were bruises on my arms and they _hurt_, and even as I looked at Inuyasha, I was unsure of what to feel. Angry? Bitter? Defiled?

It was all so complicated, all so difficult.

I felt like crying.

"…Fuck," Inuyasha muttered, reaching out and gripping my elbow.

I settled for a slightly painful smile and the comforting feeling of Inuyasha's hand on my elbow instead.


	12. Chapter Ten

**DIVINE ASPIRATION CH: 10**

* * *

He could fake desperation in the best of times, but never like this.

The feeling was rooted deep within him, gnawing at every defense he had ever built up for himself, and he hardly thought that it would change.

He told himself he would, though. For her. Told himself that he would stop pretending. And then, just as quickly as he had made the decision, she had reached deep within him, deep within _Inuyasha_ and filtered out a secret that would have been protected to the death. A secret that wouldn't have been worth mentioning in other situations, situations that didn't require the bitter resentment or lies to withhold it, even if he had been giving her drops of precious clues. Clues that anyone else would have noticed, and she wasn't stupid, so she had.

But not enough. Not nearly enough, and his heart was aching now because of it.

Kohaku had been taken safely to the hospital, and as soon as his parents had rushed into the hospital wing, Miroku had made a point to smile politely, tilt his head, and leave quietly. There were questions that needed to be asked, questions he had to avoid, because although Kohaku had been hurt while touching Inuyasha's angel, no one could say that. No one could tell. It wouldn't have mattered had it been anyone else, but it was _Kagome_ and Kagome was something precious and treasured, something that no one could expose because Miroku had done enough of that in his youth. Had done enough to last a lifetime, really, even if his life was on borrowed time.

A sardonic smile curved his lips, and he shook his head in dark amusement.

Ah, time.

He was ruled by it so well, had _been_ ruled by it so efficiently, and it was something that never should have happened in the first place. Kagome would understand it, better than anyone else, because although she was there for Inuyasha, she could still make time for everyone else. Unless she failed. And then… the thought wiped the bitter smile off his face, and he stared down into the cup of tea in front of him in quiet contemplation.

If she failed.

_If_ she failed.

What would they do then? How would the heavens react? It was not outside the power of an Angel _to_ fail… Miroku knew all to well what failure meant, knew all to well what it meant to have a death reversed and relived, even though he never wanted it. He couldn't remember ever experiencing something so painful. So agonizing.

It had been accidental then, something that was never supposed to happen because _Kikyou_ was never supposed to happen, but then again, she was always doing things that she shouldn't, and Inuyasha had never listened to reason. Never could, actually, and whatever kind feelings he felt towards his friend were slowly dissipating.

Oh yes, how he could remember it. How he hated it.

If he tried, he could still feel the tiny tendrils of power that floated around his body, trapped in darkness. The cords wrapped around him tightly, suffocating him, and Miroku didn't want to feel it. Didn't want to think of it. But the failure was already there, manifesting in his mind, reminding him. He could almost see the pools of blood surrounding him, warm and wet and sticky, and the pain was arcing through his back once more. Knives slid across his back, stinging and aching, cutting deeply into muscle, but nothing else mattered. Nothing else mattered because he could still feel bone dislocating from bone, tearing through flesh, and he had _had_ his wings, _damn it_. Had them, even if he wasn't _supposed_ to.

He could feel the soft, feathery light twining around his fingers, gentle and wonderful and _pure_, but—no. _No._

It didn't exist. Not anymore. Not with him.

There was nothing, _nothing_, serene or pure or gentle about him anymore. Not where this was concerned. Not when it needed to be. Because he had already defiled something pretty and beautiful by touching her with his filthy black fingers, and he could almost remember the blackness swallowing him up, choking him with its harsh winds and wrathful vengeance. He could remember so many things, so many things he had wanted to forget, and he almost had. No matter how much Inuyasha had been hurting, he had almost forgotten what it mean to be a _true_ Angel. An Angel with a purpose, a goal, someone to… heal. Help.

Cleanse.

Death had taught him so many things, after all.

And Kagome was there to teach him more. It hardly mattered that she was Inuyasha's Angel, hardly mattered that she belonged to him, hardly mattered that neither of them understood the significance of the situation.

_Hardly…_

The tea had gone tepid when he finally lifted the glass to his lips, but still he drank anyways, savoring the bitter taste.

It was better than Kagome's taste, then the taste of sweetness and naivety. It reminded him of what he really was, of what he was really doing, and although his lips had burned and ached and bruised when he had touched his to hers, there was nothing wrong with it. Nothing wrong because he was a Fallen, and although his soul was a nothing more than a broken, shattered mass of nothingness, he could still feel it festering inside of him. He could feel the infection (_kagomesinuyashassangoskohakusmineeveryonesnoonestheresnothing_) slowly unfurling. It stretched like hot poison over his chest and trickled down over his ribs, settling in his stomach. He could feel it intertwined with his muscles, and oh how that _ached_, but he never needed words to express his pain, just dark little bursts of thought that poisoned almost as well as they healed.

And Kagome—how like poison she truly was, digging deeper and deeper into something she had no right to touch. But then, he had said it hadn't he? Said that they should stop playing with her. But that… his secret… that was something he had never wanted her to know, something he had wanted to avoid at all costs, because it was one thing to know an Angel but to _be_ and Angel, and a disgraced one at that… Miroku could only imagine what Kagome thought of him now. Disgusting, filthy, tainted. Because he had committed the ultimate sin, and—

… _it's Kikyou's fault that you lost your Wings._

Kikyou.

Kikyou.

_Kikyou._

Miroku smiled as he finished off his tea.

The name left such a bitter taste in his mouth, he hated saying it. He had seen her since the darkness took him, and seen her beyond even _that_, but then… then she had…

He wondered if Inuyasha had hurt as much as he did when she had left. Had to have.

But she promised to come back. Promised to return.

It had been two years. Two years, and not a single word to signify that she was still alive. Of course, he knew she was. Had to be. There was no way she _couldn't_ be, not with the job that she did.

But he tired of thinking of her. Tired of waiting for her to return when he knew she never would. Promises meant nothing to someone like her—she could make them, but she broke them just as easily. Just as he did.

His fingers were cold as he dug the yen out of his pocket and dropped it on the table, and _that_ was something he hadn't felt in so long. The air was warm outside, though, and it pricked against his cold fingers, even as the darkness coalesced into something very familiar.

He thought of Sango.

* * *

Inuyasha was not full of explanations, in fact, he was waiting for them, but Kagome was being stubborn. Stubborn to the point of annoyance, and he was certain that if she didn't say something within the next five seconds, he was going to go postal on her.

Not that he wanted to, all things considered, but it was getting more and more difficult to handle the Angel, especially when her moods became darker and darker. It was strange, seeing her like that, especially when she was supposed to innocent and beautiful and silly and _happy_. But that was an _assumption_, and although he knew she was capable of smiling, he knew that she was capable of hurting, and Miroku had hurt her. He had hurt her in a way that he never thought she could be hurt. In a way he never wanted her _to_ be hurt, and somehow, kissing her, an _Angel_, was something Inuyasha could not forgive. He didn't know why it bothered him so much, but Miroku was just as black and tainted as he was, and that was something he could not allow. Not again. Not to Kagome.

Annoyance and irritation spiked dangerously within him at the thought, and he nearly snarled when Kagome reached forward to take a sip of her tea.

"Quit mopin' around already!" Inuyasha snapped, and Kagome narrowed her eyes at him.

"Excuse me?"

Inuyasha scoffed. "You heard me. I'm tired of watching you skulk around like someone killed your dog." When Kagome began to laugh at him, Inuyasha growled at her. "Shut up."

"You said it, not me," Kagome replied cheerfully, taking a sip of tea. Something in Inuyasha relaxed at the sight of her smile, but almost as soon as it had appeared, it was gone, and Kagome was sighing and staring into her tea up.

"Inuyasha?" she asked quietly, her face pensive.

"What?" he asked gruffly, and he turned his attention to something more interesting. Like the wall. Yeah. At least it didn't sit around like some heartbroken teenager the way Kagome did. At least it was easier to watch. At least it didn't annoy the hell out of him by ignoring his questions. Inuyasha huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, sinking down into his chair.

How was it, he wondered, that he could convince even the most heartless, arrogant, bastard in the world to spill their guts—could ream into the most practiced liar and come out with the truth? But when it came to Kagome… when it came to her stupid, annoying face with her stupid, annoying voice, no matter how much he wanted to yell and scream and demand, he couldn't do it. He didn't know why, and despite the fact that he really _wanted_ to…

Inuyasha wanted to know what the hell she saw. But he couldn't ask. Not when she was like this. And it pissed him the hell off.

He was sick of feeling guilty.

"I…" Kagome trailed off, and her face tinged red for a second before she shook her head violently. "I just… it was my _first kiss!_"

Inuyasha nearly choked on air.

"What the hell are you telling me for?" He asked, staring at her with wide eyes.

"Because!" she nearly wailed. "Because you're his best friend and… and I thought he loved Sango!"

Inuyasha blinked. Then he stared. And then he blinked some more.

"Uh…"

"And that… that pervert took advantage of me! He stole my first kiss! I'm going to kill the lecher when I get my hands on him," Kagome growled, slamming her teacup down. Tea sloshed down over the sides of her cup, but Kagome barely noticed. Her face was red and her eyes were blazing, and Inuyasha had half a mind to cuff her on the head for being so damned whiny and annoying, but somehow, he didn't think it would go over well. Better her attention was focused on Miroku than him anyways. But… he really didn't want to know about her stupid relationship hang-ups. He already dealt with enough as it was, and they weren't even his!

"All right, let's go," Kagome said sternly, placing her hands on her hips.

"Where?" Inuyasha asked cautiously, his eyes narrowed.

"To find Miroku, of course," Kagome answered as though it were the most obvious thing the world. Inuyasha didn't see how it was.

"_Why?_"

Kagome's face colored once more. "To, ah, uhm, well…" she fidgeted slightly, and it was only when Inuyasha glowered at her in agitation that she was squeaking out his answer. "I just… I thought that if you, you know… _defended_ _my virtue_… he… wouldn't do it again?"

Silence prevailed, and Inuyasha stared in horror, unsure of how to react.

_Defend her virtue? What the hell is this stupid girl thinking?_

Didn't she know that no matter what he did to defend her, Miroku would get to her if he really wanted to? Not that he would, considering his feelings for Sango, but despite what he really felt for the older woman, Miroku had slept around. But he wouldn't do it to Kagome. Inuyasha didn't even believe he had it in him to touch something as… _virtuous_… as Kagome, his past considered but…

Well… Miroku _had_ kissed her.

Inuyasha stared at Kagome in uncertainty before shaking his head.

"No," he said simply, and Kagome's shoulders stiffened.

"Well why not?"

"I don't…" Inuyasha trailed off, vaguely uncomfortable. While he could _think_ of his best friends' relationship, it was another thing entirely _speaking_ of it, and even if Miroku didn't know about it, Inuyasha didn't think he would approve. And that was something that would eat at him, no matter what he did to appease that guilt. It was betraying Miroku's trust. And if he betrayed that trust then—Inuyasha didn't want to think of the secrets that Miroku could give to Kagome. Didn't want to think of the wicked truths that would eat away at him, and although they were still there, nestled in the back of his mind, it still _hurt._ And Miroku would never hurt him like that. Never could. And although they did say hurtful things to one another, they were always truths, no matter how dirty they were. Truths he could handle.

Betrayal was another thing entirely.

"Look, I just ain't gonna, all right?!" he snapped, jumping to his feet. "And nothin' you can do will make me say otherwise!"

Kagome frowned, turning away. "Oh," she said softly. "I guess I did it again. Made the mistake of… of thinking we were friends."

Inuyasha hissed, but he was tired of feeling guilty on her behalf. "Listen, wench—"

Kagome snapped around to face him, and her eyes were on fire. "Did you just call me a _wench_?"

"Keh," Inuyasha snorted, crossing his arms.

"I am _not_ a wench," Kagome responded warningly. "And don't you ever call me one again."

"I'm gonna call you whatever the hell I wanna call you," Inuyasha bit back, and Kagome let out a long, irritated breath of air. "As long as you keep acting like one."

The last part was meant to remain unheard, but Kagome heard him anyways. Her eyes went from flashing to downright _flooding_ with anger that promised violence in the near future. Not that an Angel could harm someone… at least Inuyasha didn't think so. The entire time he had known Miroku, no harm had ever come to anyone the Fallen was angry with. People had suffered emotional abuse, yes, but he had never harmed them physically. Inuyasha knew Miroku was capable of it, too. Knew that if he really wanted to, the Fallen could have left more than bruises on Kagome's pale arms. Arms that were slender and tiny and—

_There was so much blood and it wouldn't stop flowing, not once, and it was causing his hands to stick together and why was there so much blood so much gore so much—_

_Icecoldsadnessdeath._

"_You will be forgiven."_

His heart jerked then, and he snapped back, forcing it away. He didn't want to see it. Not now. Not in front of her. His hands were shaking and he could tell that she saw, could tell that she was watching his weakness through wide eyes. Pitying eyes.

Eyes he hated, but cherished all the same.

* * *

(Sango)

Kohaku was sleeping when I finally got to the hospital, and I was relieved.

He'd always had an uncanny ability to see through my emotions, and the turmoil that I felt in that moment was something I didn't want him to ever see.

I could feel my heart breaking in two, could feel it literally crumbling to pieces as I sat next to his bed, a pen and paper in my hand. I just couldn't understand it. Just couldn't understand how my friends, the ones I relied on for so long… how could they just… _lie_ to me like that? Sure, no words were said outright, but lies by omission were just as worse. I could feel the loneliness closing in on me, wanting to suffocate me, and I hated it. I hate this feeling of helplessness, this feeling of self-hatred, because friends were never supposed to _do_ that, and already, I could feel them pulling away from me. Had felt the pull ever since Kagome had gotten here.

And I wanted to hate her. I really did. I could feel the bitterness right beneath the surface, but as I stared at Kohaku's pinched and uncomfortable expression as he rested in his hospital bed, there was just something that couldn't. I had seen her heart, had seen the beauty of it, and if I started hating her now… I would never forgive myself. But Inuyasha? Miroku? What about them? What did they have to atone for?

I wanted to apologize to her so badly. Wanted to let Kagome know that I didn't mean it, didn't want the distance or the cold separation.

Her hand had been warm when it first touched mine, and that was a warmth I could never forget. There was a… a purity about her, something that I don't think I could even being to put into words, and the more I think about it, the more I start to hate myself for treating her so horribly. She was my friend. An Angel, yeah, but she was still my friend. Someone who meant something to me. I'm not sure what she meant to Inuyasha and Miroku—and Inuyasha had hinted at it, hinted at something—but it didn't matter. Because I shouldn't have let it change us, shouldn't have let it change how I felt about her, and I did it anyways.

Something horrible and disgusting settled in my throat, and I felt like an idiot.

An idiot because who could possibly hate someone as beautiful and precious as Kagome?

Maybe that was why Kohaku was so drawn to her. Or maybe… I had figured it out when he brought Souta over, the boy who looked so frightening like Kagome. With his huge, open eyes, no matter how much sorrow they seemed to convey. It was sad when I thought about it, because how could anyone touched by Kagome's radiance emit such sorrow? It didn't make _sense_. Because even though I was _jealous_ of her, as disgusting as that makes me feel, there was something about her that just seemed to leave me feeling happy inside. Happy in a way that I hadn't felt in… forever. And I was tired of the distance, so tired of everything that just seemed to weigh down on me lately.

Even as I sat beside Kohaku's bed, hoping that everything would work itself out, just thinking of Kagome made it easier.

* * *

Souta was there.

Souta was there, waiting, _smiling—_Sango smiled uneasily at the younger boy as he sat next to Kohaku's bed, looking as though he belonged there. Sango wasn't sure what to think of the younger boy. Wasn't sure what to say to boy that had caused Kohaku to feel a million things that she had never been able to. He seemed so natural, so at ease… Sango could remember, quite clearly, the disdain that Souta had felt when she had fought over him with her brother. Sango could remember the hate that Kohaku emanated as soon as she had thought to ask about Kagome, comment on their similarities…

But when she took a step back and looked—actually _looked_—they were so very different. Kagome's eyes bled anger and happiness. Confusion and desperation. Her eyes were clear, beautiful, wonderful. But Souta's—his were jaded. Empty. His face was blank, even though he smiled, and if she concentrated hard enough, Sango was almost certain that she could see his invisible tears, trailing slowly down his face.

"Hello Miss Sango," Souta said pleasantly as she strode into the room. Kohaku frowned at her before turning away, his lips twisted in annoyance. "It's nice to see you again."

"Souta," Sango replied cordially, dipping her head slightly. "Why aren't you at school?"

Kohaku whipped around to glare at her. "Why aren't _you_ at _work_?" he asked quietly, his voice deadly serious.

Sango glanced away from the two of them—it hurt, seeing Kohaku's reluctance to have her around. It hurt more than she was willing to admit, because for so long, she had been pushing him away, just as he had been pushing her away. It didn't help that her friends were lying to her—they were always so evasive. Always so secretive. And now… now her own _brother_ didn't even want her in his life, interfering with his friends.

A knot formed in Sango's throat, and she swallowed painfully, doing her best to ignore the tears that were welling up in her eyes.

She was so _tired_ of being disregarded. Cast aside. Ignored.

It left her feeling weak inside.

"Well…" Sango started slowly, curling her fingers into the ends of her hair. "I thought that… Inuyasha gave me the day off, so I thought I would visit you." Kohaku didn't say anything, just stared at the side of Souta's face as Souta stared blankly at the wall.

Sango gave a watery laugh. "I am your sister you know. Do I need an excuse—"

"Yes," Kohaku answered blithely.

Sango bit back a gasp of pain, ignored the tightening of her chest. It was always like this with Kohaku. Always so cold and distant. What had she been hoping for, wanting to seek comfort from him? Comfort was something he would never give, after all, she had never given any to him, had she? Sango pressed her hand to her mouth lightly, trying her best to hide the trembling of her lips.

"Oh. Well. I see."

Souta smiled suddenly.

"I think it's time I get back to school," he said kindly, reaching out to grab Kohaku's injured hand gingerly. "I just heard that you had been hurt, wanted to make sure you were safe."

Kohaku opened his mouth to speak, but Souta silenced him by standing up.

"So I'll just be—"

"You don't have to leave," Sango replied forcefully, although she was glad that he was leaving. But she was sad, too, because the pained look on Kohaku's face as the younger boy shifted away from him was enough to dig trenches in her heart.

"She's right, you know, you can stay—"

"Don't worry so much," Souta replied gently. "I really should get back to school though." His face became softer then, his voice quieter. "I've missed enough as it is."

Neither Kohaku or Sango could say anything, so the two of them just watched as Souta shouldered his backpack and walked out of the room, closing he door behind him. A terse silence permeated the air, one that made both of the siblings uncomfortable. Sango watched her younger brother silently, uncertainly, and then gave a soft watery laugh.

"Well… I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right," she answered nervously, uncurling the hair from her fingers. "And I probably should get back to work—"

Kohaku's gaze was fierce as it raked across her skin, and Sango's throat closed abruptly. There was heat in that look, anger and confusion and so many other things that Sango didn't think she could ever recognize, but it was still there. It left checkered patterns of fear tattooed on her skin, because it always came in twos—fear for her brother, and fear for herself. So totally different extremes, and yet, as she stood there watching her brother watch her, Sango saw something that she had never noticed before, something that she had never took the time to notice.

The sadness in his eyes mirrored her own.

It choked her, corroded her, but that was a feeling she should have been used to, even though she wasn't. It was different when it came from Kohaku, because when it did, she always had Miroku and Inuyasha there to pick up the pieces. But now… now there was no Inuyasha and Miroku, just Kohaku. Just Kohaku leaving her feeling bitter and hurt and what type of sister was she, to hurt him so badly?

She knew that there was pain in his heart, had seen it when he first showed up at her doorstep years ago, needed a safe haven. A place of comfort. But in her own grief she had completely disregarded him… _left_, even, because being in the same house as him had been so _stifling._

The guilt was unbearable, even now.

"Kohaku—"

"Are mom and dad coming?" he asked quietly, even though Sango was sure he knew the answer.

She shook her head gently, unable to look him in the eye any longer. "No. They asked me to come on their behalf."

"_Oh,_" Kohaku spat venomously. "I get it now."

The rawness of his voice nearly left Sango panicking, but she swallowed it back and chanced a glance up at him. He refused to look at her.

That bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

"Look… don't misunderstand—"

"Misunderstand what?" he asked coldly. "That the only reason you even bothered to see me was because our parents asked you to '_come on their behalf?_'"

"That's not it at all!" Sango interjected, anger spiking within her so suddenly, it left her startled. She was tired of everyone's baseless accusations. And as much as it hurt her to argue with her younger brother, to see him sitting there injured and hurt and _angry—_she was angry, too. Had every right to be.

Why didn't anyone see that?

"Why should I believe you? You've never wanted me—"

"That's not true!" Sango snapped, tears blurring her vision.

Kohaku still wasn't looking at her.

"Oh, so you mean you actually came here of your own free will? You actually came here because you were… _worried_ about me?" Kohaku scoffed, and Sango reeled from it. She had never seen him this hateful before. This… _angry._ "Give me a break. I find it hard to believe that you'd start caring after all of this time—"

"I… I've always cared. I—I mean… you're my brother."

Silence prevailed. It was thick, uncomfortable, and agonizing, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Kohaku was staring out the window, out at the cloud-dotted sky, and Sango had a feeling that he was ignoring her. But it didn't matter. No. Because she had said something that had been on her mind since Kagome had first came into the picture… since she had distanced herself from her. She had finally spoke the truth, had finally let Kohaku know how she truly felt—

_You're my brother._

How long had it been since she had actually acknowledge that? The relationship between the two had rusted and decayed long ago… Sango didn't think there was any chance for repair, but even so, there was a longing right alongside the pain that seemed to radiate waves of want that never seemed to disappear. It didn't happen until she saw Souta… until she saw the hurt that he was forced to deal with whenever someone spoke of his sister… that's the kind of relationships brothers and sisters were supposed to have… close ones… wonderful ones… but it was something that she lacked.

Sango wasn't ignorant enough to think that she could actually get that, but she had to make it better. For herself. For Kohaku. For _Souta._ Because even though Souta already had a sister, Sango could understand why Kohaku had brought him around. Could understand why he had introduced the two of them, despite their distance between one another.

Sighing loudly, Sango closed her eyes and pushed her bangs out of her eyes, ignoring the wetness that left warm trails across her cheeks.

"Kohaku—"

"I don't believe you."

Sango's brow furrowed. "What?" she asked, completely blind sighted.

Kohaku turned to her. "I _said _that I _don't_ believe you."

His eyes were dark with fury and hatred.

Sango's mouth worked as she tried to formulate a response… an objection… anything to counter what Kohaku had said, but the shock of his statement left her frozen.

"Just because you don't have Miroku and Inuyasha, doesn't mean that you can suddenly come running to me and try to fix things. So don't try and _lie_ to me." Kohaku laughed bitterly then, his bandaged fingers twitching. His eyes lighted on the pen and paper that rested on his bedside, itching to write. Itching to do something other than sit there with his bandaged hands and speak and think and watch as Sango's eyes filled with false shock and tears.

"I may be your… brother… but I refuse to be their replacement."

Sango gagged and pressed her fingers to her mouth.

"Besides, you should be used to abandonment." Kohaku smiled at her mockingly, his lips curving into sneering laughter, and disgust she held for herself suddenly turned into fierce ire. "You're so good at it after all."

Time seemed to trickle by slowly, and before Sango had realized it, her hand was arcing through the air, connecting with the soft flesh of her brothers face; his face went red with pain and irritation, and Sango could only stare in horror.

She had slapped him. She had slapped Kohaku.

The sound rebounded off the walls of the room, and Kohaku pressed his stinging cheek to his shoulder, trying to rub away the pain.

"I…" Sango started, only to have the tears overwhelm her and cause her to choke. She paused and rubbed at her eyes, her voice quivering in anger and sorrow. "I think I hate you."

"I know you do."

Crushed and hurting, Sango let out a frustrated growl before pivoting on the spot and marching out the door. She slammed it shut behind her, disregarding the shushes and the startled looks that the nurses sent her way. She pushed off the wall and moved quickly out of the ward and into the waiting room—familiar bodies were sitting in the stiff-backed chairs, on of which was avidly reading a magazine with a famous girl band on the cover.

Inuyasha was the first to notice her.

His eyes widened slightly before he looked away in discomfort—it was obvious his friend had been crying, but he had always been so bad at comforting crying girls…

"I thought you were at work," Sango said loudly, startling Kagome into looking up at her.

The dark-haired girl smiled when her eyes lighted upon the older woman, and Sango couldn't help but smile back.

"Sango!"

"Kagome," Sango greeted warmly. "It's nice to see you again."

Kagome nodded enthusiastically and set the magazine down before bouncing up and looping her arm through Sango's.

"We should go out to get something to eat. You look like you could use some sweets." Sango blinked, her arm warm from where Kagome touched it. "I know! There's this great sweet shop right across from the arcade… I went there with Kohaku once… we should go!"

Sango nodded numbly—she didn't want to think about Kohaku.

"How's that brat doing anyways?" Inuyasha ventured cautiously.

Sango glanced around uncertainly before answering. "He's sleeping at the moment."

Kagome frowned. "Oh. Well, I guess we'll just have to come back another time."

"Don't worry," Sango said suddenly, wanting nothing more than to be out of there, soaking in Kagome's comfort. "He'll be released by tomorrow. I'll let him know you stopped by, anyways… does this café have chocolate parfaits?"

Kagome grinned. "The best," she assured.

Sango couldn't help but smile.

It was always so easy being with Kagome.

* * *

Miroku hadn't been expecting them.

One moment, he was sitting inside the little café, feeling tired and withdrawn, his thoughts circling around the same problems over and over again, and the next he saw three familiar figures—one puffy eyed, but seemingly content—walk into the restaurant.

He paused, uncertain of whether he truly wanted to acknowledge them; he wasn't looking his best. He knew that there were circles under his eyes, and a stale taste in his mouth. He knew that the clothes he was wearing—the same ones from yesterday—were wrinkled and unattractive.

He felt unattractive, raw, and open, and Miroku honestly did not want to see his friends. Yet they were there, standing inside of the little café, smiling (although Inuyasha seemed to be glowering, as always) as if there wasn't a care in the world.

Kagome was the first to spot him.

At first, her eyes seem to just glide over him, but then they settled, and the quaint happiness that made her seem so beautiful at first shifted into something uncomfortably familiar—resigned shock and a slight fear—and her hand, so thin and pale and small, suddenly wrapped around Inuyasha's long silver hair and _pulled._

"What the hell was that for, you wench?" Inuyasha snapped as he yanked his hair out of her hands, scowling fiercely.

Miroku smiled curiously as Kagome whirled to glare at him.

"I told you not to call me that!" Kagome snapped back just as fiercely.

"Keh, whatever," Inuyasha grumbled, fixing his hair.

Sango shook her head in genuine amusement before she glanced over towards Miroku, her shoulders stiffening. The smile froze on her face.

"Ah, Miroku," she said lightly, though the strain in her voice was apparent. Miroku smiled ambiguously, nodding in a silent greeting.

"Sango."

The two friends stared at each other as Inuyasha and Kagome started bickering in the background. Their voices were too low to hear, but Kagome's face was flushing in anger, and Inuyasha looked as though he were about ready to pout. Miroku couldn't help the affectionate smile that split his face—it was commonplace whenever Kagome did something particularly adorable. It was strange, especially when all he could feel was a dark bitterness when it came to her—bitterness at the fact Kagome was an Angel, while he was a Fallen. A pathetic, tainted Fallen.

One which Kagome shouldn't have to touch, much less look at, and yet, Miroku couldn't help but want to be around her. The need burned him, just as much as his love for Sango did.

He couldn't help it.

"Would you care to join me?" Miroku asked genially, and Sango nodded hesitantly.

She sat stiffly, as though ready to bolt. He could see the discomfort tracing lines in her face, making her seem pale and withdrawn. She looked almost like Miroku felt, and he couldn't stop the way his lips curved in amusement at the irony of the thought. Their fight was still fresh in both their minds… his lies, his secrets, his omissions. They were things he would never be able to tell her—things she would never be able to understand—and yet, as he sat there, taking in her appearance with a hungry selfish urgency, Miroku wanted to tell her.

He wanted to tell her all of his secrets, down to the very core of his soul, because how could he not? She was the one he loved after all—loved with a fiery burning passion that he had never felt before. But secrets were so easy to keep from her, so _natural, _and although he knew he loved her, the fact that he was a Fallen… a disgrace… the shame cut scars into his skin, visible for everyone to see.

He had enough as it was. Miroku didn't want more.

He smiled genially once more as Kagome fisted her hands on her hips and leaned forward, snarling something into Inuyasha's face that only the silver-haired man could hear. Inuyasha responded just as ruthlessly—the irritation flashed hot and quick on Kagome's face, and Miroku could almost hear the slight shrill in her voice as Kagome responded.

"I wonder what they're fighting about," Miroku mused absently, sipping at his tea. Sango stared blindly at the table.

"Something about virtue and responsibility and Inuyasha being old-fashioned and rude," Sango murmured. Her fingers traced the groves of the metal rimmed table, and a waitress—one with short hair pulled up into a messy pony-tail, stepped up to the table, smiling politely.

"Excuse me," she interrupted with her tiny voice. "Is there anything I could get for you?"

Sango smiled at her. "I'd like a chocolate parfait please. And Kagome would like an iced latte and maybe some strawberry shortcake. And Inuyasha…"

"Green tea, if you please," Miroku finished for her. Sango glanced at him from the corner of her eye and then back towards the waitress; the young lady smiled politely, giving a little bow before moving away. She sent Kagome and Inuyasha worried glances, but there really was nothing to worry about—they were the only four in the restaurant.

"So…" Miroku began, smiling curiously.

Sango shifted in discomfort. "So…"

"_Fine!"_ Inuyasha's voice snarled loudly, and Kagome crossed her arms over her chest, pleased and triumphant. "Fucking fine! I'll do it already."

He scowled at the dark-haired girl before storming over to the table and staring down his nose at Miroku, arms crossed sullenly over his chest. Miroku smiled pleasantly.

"Yes?" Miroku asked, darkly amused.

Kagome crept up behind Inuyasha quietly, her gaze fierce and demanding at his back, but she still seemed uncertain. Insecure. Small. Pale. Lovely.

An Angel.

Miroku watched her gently.

"Oi!" Inuyasha growled, grabbing Miroku by the collar and yanking him around to snarl at him. "Quit bein' a pervert."

Miroku arched an eyebrow and settled back as Inuyasha released his collar. He smoothed down his wrinkled clothes and scooted down in the booth invitingly—Sango stared at him hard, trying her best to figure out what it was that she had missed. Her stare was unrelenting, curious, but deadly angry, because she knew that it would be so hard to worm it out of him, so hard to burrow beneath the mask he hid behind so fluidly—she pressed her lips together in a firm line and turned towards Kagome, ignoring Inuyasha as he slid sulkily into the booth next to Miroku.

"Kagome," Sango said softly, getting the Angel's attention.

"Yeah?"

"What did Inuyasha mean?"

Miroku's head snapped up from his tea, and Inuyasha slid further down into his seat.

"Oh," Kagome started nervously, giggling slightly. She tugged at the loose threads of her sleeves, bouncing on her feet slightly. "He was just… um…" she cast her eyes about, unable to look at the older girl. "…defending my virtue?"

Sango's face went blank.

Miroku's insides were burning. They ached and throbbed, and he knew that there was no way of getting around Sango finding out. But in the same token, he wanted her to. He wanted to see the jealous ire on her face, the disgust that she felt whenever someone who wasn't _her_ garnered his attention. He had tried so hard for so long just to get the woman's attention, and if it caused her some sort of suffering… it was justified. Justified because then he would know that she cared for him, cared for him beyond that of simple friends, wanted something more, and although he could never have her… could never allow himself to be with her…

Kagome flushed bright red and hid her face behind her hands.

"Er, well, that is to say… what I meant was… Inuyasha was just… I wanted to, I mean—_it was my first kiss!_"

Kagome froze. Sango froze. Even Inuyasha froze.

Horror arced through Kagome in thick, chilling waves—she had never wanted to say that, never _meant_ to, but the nervousness had taken control so easily, so effortlessly…

Miroku smiled with a dark sort of pleasure as Sango's face tightened.

"Oh," she said, her voice trembling. "_Oh._"

"Sango, wait, please," Kagome insisted urgently. "I didn't mean for it to happen, and it didn't mean anything, I promise. It was just he was so mad and so angry and I just found out he was a Fallen and—"

"_Fallen_?" Sango asked, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's a Fallen?"

Kagome's eyes widened and she glanced at Miroku quickly—he tilted his head ever so slightly, his chin resting against his palm as he regarded Kagome with cool, dark eyes. The smile was still ever present on his face, but it was different from before. Miroku could taste the darkness against his own tongue, could feel the cold fury threatening to break free, to consume him. It thrashed against the calm serenity that enveloped him, and when Kagome took a frightened step back, he knew it had reached her, knew that it touched upon the very essence that linked Angels together.

And it frightened her.

Miroku loved it.

"Kagome," he said mildly, his fingers tracing the rim of his cup. Droplets of tea and saliva moistened his fingers, smeared across the enamel coating. "I have a favor to ask of you, if you would be so inclined to grant it."

Sango watched the exchange closely, the jealous irritation causing her brows to furrow. They were skirting around the secrets again, something only the both of them knew, but… her eyes took in Inuyasha's form, slumped and agitated, and Sango couldn't help the cold feeling of dread that shook her to the core.

Inuyasha _knew._

Inuyasha knew, just as he always knew, and once again, she was being cast aside. Ignored. Disregarded. _Abandoned._

_You should be used to abandonment._

Kohaku's words left pathetic trails of hurt all over.

Sango was tired of fighting for it.

"Um," Kagome murmured uncertainly, her blue eyes trained on Sango's slumped form. Anger lined the older girls body, but the sadness was there, burying deeper. "It… depends."

Miroku continued to smile. "There is no need to worry," he answered. "I was merely wondering whether you would do me the honor of seeing my _wings._"

Sango's head snapped up. "You can't—"

"I've already seen them," Kagome said vaguely, her eyes drifting towards the window. "You had just gotten it. Kikyou took you."

Sango gazed at Kagome in alarm.

"How do _you_ know about—"

"Here's your order."

The waitresses small voice cut into the shocked silence, and Kagome's absent look turned bright once more. She slid into the booth next to Sango, but carefully avoided the other girls' eyes—how could she tell her that she had viewed such a private moment between the three of them? She could remember the closeness they shared so vividly—the slight touches, the dark amusement, the friendly ribbing. The scent of greasy pizza boxes and beer nearly invaded her senses along with the memory of that beautiful, elegant woman, but Kagome pulled back into reality just as the waitress set her latte and cake down in front of her.

Inuyasha took quickly to his green tea, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had been going, but Miroku continued to stare—at Kagome, at Sango, his gaze alternating between fondness, irritation, and triumph. Despite the fact that Kagome had said something Sango didn't need to know—something that Sango would piece together if given enough time—he knew something even more important.

He knew what Kagome saw and the lengths she would go to protect it.

Kagome would never betray them.

Miroku smiled darkly.

She really was the perfect Angel.

* * *

_Sis,_

_Things are going well. I still miss you more than anything, but I'm coping._

_I've made a new friend. I know you'd be proud of that. I don't remember having a friend since elementary school, but… Kohaku is different. He's kind, generous, and tries his best to take care of me._

_He knows about you, as does his sister. I don't know how, because I don't ever remember you mentioning anything about her—her name is Sango. She's kind and gentle, just like Kohaku. They're a lot alike, actually, but they are so angry with one another—I don't know why, and it hurts to see them hurt that way. I know that they love each other, otherwise, they wouldn't be so angry at each other, but… I don't think I could help. I want to, because I know that it's something you would do, but… I can't. I don't think I have the strength._

_There's no guarantee that they will be in my life for much longer._

_I think Sango is a wonderful sister. Kohaku just hasn't realized that yet._

_Oh, yeah!_

_I saw you today. But as soon as I blinked, you were gone._

_It had to have been a hallucination, because you would never, ever be with _**him. **_Not after what he did to you. He shouldn't even be alive. He deserves to **die**._

_I want him to._

_And if I ever see him again, he will._


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Dedication: **This chapter is dedicated to _greenee16_ and _guitarbebexoxo. _

_Greenee16_ for getting me to 100 reviews, and _Guitarbebexoxo_ for sending me over 100. Thanks a bunch!

* * *

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CH. 11**

* * *

The harsh cacophony of the phone cut through the quiet stillness, and Kagome paused in her perusal of Miroku and Inuyasha's rather limited movie collection.

Neither men were there—Miroku had gone to escort Sango home, despite the obvious enmity that seemed to burn between the two, and Inuyasha skulked off for alone time. Kagome just assumed he was pouting. She _had_ been the one to win that little argument in the café, as ridiculous as it had been.

But after the rather awkward moment where she had not only blurted out that Miroku had kissed her (the look on Sango's face was enough to make her want to bawl in shame and guilt), and nearly gave away the fact that Miroku was a Fallen Angel… well, she had, in a sense, come right out and blurted it, but Sango couldn't have picked up on it. And if she did, she certainly did not know what it meant.

Miroku's expression at that point had been positively chilling, and in that moment, Kagome had never felt a fear so profound as she did then. There was something about Miroku, something that clawed at her in the wrong way—he was by no means _evil_, but he wasn't exactly innocent, either. The taint of his sins clung to him in thick, rolling waves, and although Kagome had seen the darkness that permeated his heart, she had never felt it so extensively as she had then.

Fleeting wisps of memories were one thing. Fierce, unsubtle emotions was another thing entirely.

Straightening, Kagome dropped a cheesy martial arts movie onto the coffee table and moved through the townhouse, annoyed at the fact that neither men were there to answer the phone. There was a general rule that Kagome wasn't allowed anywhere near the object—who knew what she could find out, after all!

Inuyasha and Miroku always tried their hardest to keep Kagome separate from their pasts, from figuring out their problems, and it always worked so effectively. If there was one thing that Kagome hated, more than anything, it was that solid fact. It left her feeling somewhat stolid and annoyed—she was an Angel, there to help them out, and yet… they didn't want it.

Ever since the time Kagome had visited Inuyasha's office, he had never wished for anything again. Inuyasha seemed to have locked that part of himself away for fear of what he might reveal. It was obvious in the way he held himself around her, sullen and irritated. Those were the only emotions he allowed himself to show her—guilt manifested so easily, but once he started to sink into the sorrow, Inuyasha was always so quick to pull out, to scowl and glower and pretend like the world had just screwed him over royally.

It was tiring, disconcerting, and although Miroku was good at wearing masks, Inuyasha was far better, because he made it seem as though he wasn't. As though he were being honest and innocent and pure, but…

Kagome had always been accused of being naïve.

She fell into the trap so easily; whether it was because of her temper or her own feelings concerning Inuyasha, she didn't know. But she knew she needed to break through the walls quick—so much time had already passed, and although she wasn't expecting to make fast, life long friends with Inuyasha so easily…

She had not made any headway with him.

It was one thing learning about Miroku, about the darkness that suffocated him, but it was something else entirely learning about Inuyasha's past. And all Kagome knew—the only clue she had that pointed towards the complexity and sorrow that was his life was Kikyou. _Kikyou._ A beautiful, elegant woman who possessed a kindness and a heart that went far beyond anything that Kagome had ever seen.

The way the older woman had wanted to comfort Inuyasha—it was so surprisingly gentle and certain… there were no insecurities there, and the warm familiarity left Kagome feeling uncertain and anxious.

But Kikyou had hurt Miroku, too—had taken away his wings, had left him wallowing on earth in a sin that was probably not his own. Kagome's eyes fluttered shut and she rubbed her temples wearily, the shrill ring of the phone suddenly making her head ache.

Not wasting another moment, Kagome picked up the phone and cradled it to her shoulder.

"Hello?" She asked quickly, wanting to get back to the movie. "May I ask whose calling?"

The line immediately disconnected.

"Eh?"

Frowning, Kagome placed the phone back in its cradle and scrambled back into the living room—the cheesy martial arts would have to do, but really, where those two got their tastes she would never know…

The sound of the phone ringing again halted Kagome halfway between the dining room and living room.

Glaring at the phone in irritation, Kagome stormed back over to it and picked it up quickly, her voice quick and sharp and filled with annoyance as she answered.

"_Hello?_"

The pause was longer this time, but definitely there.

Kagome waited, agitated.

Then, "Inuyasha?"

The voice was thin and quavering and vague. It caused shivers to go down Kagome's spine, uncomfortable and resounding and fierce. She gripped the phone tighter, the heat transferring to her cheek as her hand shook slightly.

"Um… he's not here right now…"

There was another pause, this one longer than the last.

"Oh," the whispery voice said. "He's… he's usually home at this time. I merely thought—"

"I could take a message for you, if you'd like," Kagome offered, hoping that this person would just hang up, hoping that she wouldn't have to listen to the quiet rasp or the slightly edge of pain that was sharp and prickly. She could almost hear the tears causing this person's voice to thicken—the voice was so low, so quiet, Kagome couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman, but...

"No, no, no messages for him. Inuyasha doesn't like messages, he's always so busy you see, and this is the only time I can call him—"

"Oh," Kagome interrupted, glancing around the quiet house frantically. "Well I could give you his cellphone number, if you'd like—"

"Can I tell you something?" The voice asked, and Kagome was voicing an affirmative before she even realized it had tumbled out of her mouth.

"He has a scar, where he had his appendix removed. Did you _know_ that Inuyasha had his appendix removed? He was such a troublesome little boy, did you know that?" The voice paused as though in contemplation before continuing. " But cellphone. Cellphone. He would never give me his cellphone. He wouldn't like it. I can only call this number, he said, this one alone, and I don't want to make him mad. He's just like the other one, the other one that looks like him… there are two you know, two that look like Inuyasha, but Inuyasha's gentle and they are not."

"Oh," Kagome responded, alarmed.

"He used to like to look at the stars, too" the voice continued, and Kagome suddenly wished she had never picked up the phone. "Troublesome little boy that he was… he ran away you know, when he was twelve. He hates a lot of things, too. Like cabbage and octopus and mayonnaise, but he likes eel and shitake mushrooms—no onions, of course—"

"Um."

"—but even though I know all of this, he never comes to visit me. He leaves me here all the time and I get so _frightened_. I don't like being frightened—I used to have to save him from things, but he thinks he should save me now. He can't save me, you know. No one can." The voice paused once more, and suddenly, it was thick and heavy and dark and so frightening that Kagome almost dropped the phone right then and there. "_You can't save him either._"

Ice curled deep into her muscles, and Kagome stood frozen, unsure of what to say. Of how to react. The terror was there, unfurling in translucent little waves, but washing upon her quickly—she was almost drowning in it, in the horror and terror she felt, because nothing had ever made her feel like this, not even her nightmares, not even the feeling of blood and bile and the sharp pain in her abdomen and the never ending darkness that continually haunted her whenever she slept.

She worked her throat, trying to formulate a response, but the voice talked over her pathetic attempts at speech, not faltering in the least.

"We're all so lost, no way to get free. Why won't anyone save us? We can't be saved, you know… people are loathe to try—did you know people hated him when he was younger? He only had one friend—they met a few weeks right before Inuyasha was to start high school, and then he died—he drowned, you know. It happened so slowly… Inuyasha was _so_ traumatized…"

"Ex…excuse me, but I—"

The voice let out a quietly amused chuckle, and Kagome gripped the phone tighter.

"I heard he's getting married."

Kagome blinked at the abruptness of the statement, but the voice sounded almost genial now—the alluring fierceness that had frightened her so completely was gone and was replaced by something so happy and joyful it was almost frightening.

"Who?" Kagome couldn't help but ask.

Another whispering chuckle, and then, "Inuyasha, of course."

Kagome's brow furrowed in confusion. "But Inuyasha's not—"

"What are you doing?"

Kagome shrieked at the sound of Miroku's voice, whirling to stare at him wide-eyed. He was standing not five feet away from her, watching her silently, his face blank. The darkness was still there in his eyes, and in a panic, Kagome slammed the receiver back onto its cradle before shaking her head, wishing Miroku would go to smiling that same ambiguous smile which fit his expression so well.

"Nothing!" Kagome exclaimed shrilly, and Miroku arched a bushy eyebrow, the smile sliding slowly into place.

Feelings seemed to roll off of him in waves, and Kagome glanced away in discomfort. The feelings intensified, but before Miroku could make her more uncomfortable, Inuyasha was suddenly standing there, watching the two of them suspiciously.

"What the hell is goin' on here?"

"Oh, uhm, there was a… Kohaku, _Kohaku, _called me from his, uh, hospital room," Kagome invented wildly, edging away from the phone. "So I talked to him for a bit, but, uhm, Miroku startled me. Yes. He startled me." Kagome's eyes narrowed and she gave Miroku a fierce look, faking agitation.

Inuyasha scoffed and rolled his shoulders before skulking towards the stairs and up to his room, grumbling about loud obnoxious teenaged girls and over-emotional lechers before disappearing into the darkness.

Miroku remained still, continuing to watch Kagome stolidly.

His expression was fixed, like he had sensed the lie as soon as it left her mouth—it had already dug its vicious little coils in the pit of her stomach, leaving Kagome sick and pallid. It left its greasy residue on her tongue, and Kagome wished for the cheesy martial arts movie, wished for her favorite singing group and her younger brother and her mother's home made Oden.

Kagome shifted uncomfortably and cleared her throat, picking wildly at her frayed sleeves, but Miroku still didn't say a word.

Then, as if something clicked in his mind, Miroku moved forward and gripped her hands, holding them tightly in his own.

"Um, Miroku?"

"Did you know," Miroku started genially, swinging Kagome's hands back and forth. "That an Angel who has been sent to earth is only allowed a limited amount of sin?"

Kagome blinked, completely blind sighted.

"What?"

"Ah," Miroku continued, smiling curiously at her. "It appears the Entity did not tell you all you needed to know. If you'll excuse my curious nature, did you ever fraternize with the Winged Angels while you were in the Heavens?"

Kagome shook her head slowly, her hair tinting blue in the phosphorescent light. "I was content being alone," she explained slowly. Miroku nodded, his hands slipping up her forearms to grip her elbows.

"I thought so." He paused again, then lead her firmly into the kitchen, closing the door shut behind him.

"There are rules, you know, to being on Earth. Guidelines. Regulations."

"I _know_," Kagome growled in irritation, and Miroku inclined his head towards her as he leaned fluidly against the counter.

"Very well, then. Top three taboos, if you please."

Kagome huffed and rolled her eyes, but quickly complied. "One—Communication with family members, acquaintances, or faces from the past is expressly forbidden. Failure to comply with this rule will result in the revoking of an Angel to Fallen status, where they will be forced to live out the remainder of their existence, for however long the Entity deems it necessary, as a regular human being.

"Two—" Kagome's face flushed suddenly, and she gazed at her feet determinedly. Miroku's lips quirked up in amusement. "Fornication and or romantic relationships with a Task is expressly forbidden. Failure to comply with this rule will result in the revoking of an Angel to Fallen status, where they will be forced to live out the remained of their existence, for however long the Entity deems it necessary, as a regular human being."

Kagome let out a shaky breath, and her fingers trembled as she gripped her pleated skirt tightly. "_Three_—Fornication and or romantic relationships with a Fallen is expressly forbidden—"

"However, if it is not consensual, whether in the act of fornication or an affection romantic relationship, then it is merely counted as sin," Miroku interrupted. When Kagome glanced up, he was staring resolutely at the wall. Somehow, she knew he was talking about the kiss.

"As I am sure you've already guessed I had a Task. Unlike you, however, I also had a Mentor. He taught me the rules and regulations—expectations. Sin. Repentance. Everything. And yet, strangely enough, despite all of his guidance, I still ended up breaking all of the First Three Rules."

Kagome stared at Miroku in shock, but he was smiling bitterly, his eyes unnaturally dark.

"You would think," Miroku continued; his voice was deceptively light, "that my Task was Inuyasha."

He watched her carefully in his peripheral vision, and when she nodded, he continued.

"But you would be wrong. My Task had something to do with Inuyasha, but was not him."

Kagome frowned, trying to piece together the puzzle, but it didn't make any sense. If Miroku's Task hadn't been Inuyasha, then surely…

"Was it Sango?" Kagome asked with a sudden sense of clarity.

Miroku smiled at her in reply.

"But as you said only moments before, an Angel is forbidden from seeing their family, past acquaintances, and from fornication or romantic relationships with a Task or a Fallen. I met Kikyou, my elder sister, and she is what ultimately lost me my wings. However, if I had not Repented, Sango would have been the cause of my Fall."

He smiled vaguely, but it was ugly and twisted like bloodied barbed wire. Kagome didn't like it.

"Shortly after that, I distanced myself from her and, through an unlucky coincidence, met up with a Fallen who was able to hide what they were from me, just as I was able to do to you."

The implication of what happened was not lost on Kagome, and her face burned red from the embarrassment and shock.

Disbelief nearly choked her—Miroku was being so honest with her. So _open._ There had to be a reason, some sort of logic behind what he was suddenly telling her, but Kagome couldn't see it. All she knew was that it had something to do with what had happened earlier—the phone and her excuse about Kohaku and… Kagome frowned, hoping it had nothing to do with Inuyasha. She wasn't sure she would be able to handle it if there was something beyond what she could do—he hadn't wished for anything since the cigarette, and whenever Kagome was around him her nerves tingled with the desire to bring him happiness.

It was subtle, but it was there. It was nothing like the feeling that Miroku left her with—tainted, broken, unsettled—but the tingle was there for him, too. Inuyasha was happiest when his friends were happy. Their moods reflected his mood, and although it was constantly changing, they were always so similar.

Miroku waited for Kagome to pull herself out of her musings before continuing.

"But, once again, I repented, and that was counted as Sin."

Kagome frowned once more. "You keep mentioning Sin," she murmured quietly. "What is that, exactly?"

"Sin is a manifestation of the darker parts of an Angel's soul. Because they are not directly affected by the current of positive emotion that continuously flows through the Heavens, and therefore, can not suppress those dark parts of themselves, it manifests into Sin, although it has many different forms."

"…_oh._"

Miroku tilted his head forward in amusement.

"For instance," Miroku started, his tone of icy nonchalance. "Angels don't lie."

Kagome's heart seized at the implication of what he said, and she could suddenly remember the look on his face as she slammed the phone back onto the receiver. She could also remember the lie that had slipped so easily from her lips—it had been fluid, as though she had practiced it so many times before…

"Miroku…"

"I won't force you to tell the truth," Miroku continued, ignoring Kagome's whispered plea completely. "But you'll need to, eventually. Angels can only sin five times—you have sinned twice."

"_What?_" Kagome asked shrilly. "But… I've only ever lied once!"

Miroku's lips twisted in dark amusement. "Surely my charm is not that insubstantial, Kagome."

The teasing lilt brought a blush to Kagome's face, and she pressed a hand to her trembling lips. She felt as if she were being stripped bare, as though someone were taking away the very things which acted as her safety net—she felt naked and raw and vulnerable and _weak._

"I apologize," Miroku replied as Kagome shook in horror. "It won't happen again."

Kagome nodded, her hand still pressed firmly against her mouth. Miroku waited for a moment, and then straightened, preparing to leave.

"As long as you do what's expected of you," Miroku offered gently, "then there's nothing to worry about."

Kagome didn't answer, just stared at the floor unblinkingly.

Miroku left a moment later.

* * *

Dreams fell like a torrential downpour of rain into Kagome's mind. They were varied, erratic, and insubstantial, but they left her gasping in a dull inescapable sleep-terror. They flittered about arrogantly, testing her, teasing her, and only when it became too much to bear did she wake; startled, confused, and sticky with sweat.

Blearily, Kagome stumbled to her feet and out the door, doing her best to ignore the rancid cotton taste of her mouth. She moved tiredly into the bathroom—cool water filled a tiny paper cup, and she gulped it down greedily. The ice agony tore at her throat, down her esophagus and settled into her stomach, coiling deep within like the terror-lie, the one that had plagued her ever since Miroku had told her about it—a tiny white lie, inconsequential, yet still holding so much weight.

A half-thought filtered in the drowsy cobwebs of her thoughts, even as more ice-agony ripped at her throat, and it spoke gently to her, telling her that dreams weren't dreams, but nightmares. Nightmares which caused her to scream herself bloody and hoarse, and rancid cotton was not cotton, but bile residue and a rusty metallic tang that was not supposed to exist.

It flittered away just as quickly as it came, however, and the mint mouthwash punctured wounds as easily as glass, slashing burning pain all throughout her mouth.

She spat it out quickly, though (_she was used to pain, had felt it once, she knew it)_ and stumbled back into her room, back into her dry, scratchy sheets and allowed the half-consciousness to start to fade.

The darkness sunk its unrelenting talons into the crevices of Kagome's mind, and then she was—

—_standing next to the ancient well as Souta cried silently, his face dirtied with cuts, bruises and mud. Kagome turned, her face twisted in concern and worry, but the moment she tried to take a step forward, Souta skittered back, shaking his head wildly._

"_Leave me alone!" He cried, lifting his hands up to protect his face. "Just go away!"_

"_Souta!" Kagome chastised, shaking her head and frowning sternly. "I'm not leaving you, so don't even bother asking."_

"_Please, Sis, please," Souta begged as snot and tears streamed down his face._

_Kagome sighed and placed her hands on both of her hips. She watched as her brother wiped at the snot, then at the blood that dribbled down his knees and sighed once more._

"_Look," she started consolingly. "I have a first aid kit in my backpack—just let me fix you up, okay?"_

_Souta peered up at her, his brown eyes shining brightly before he nodded his consent._

_Grinning exuberantly, Kagome dropped to her knees and pulled out the first aid kit—antiseptic, band-aids, and gauze. She worked at Souta's bloodied knees, wiping away at the dirty flesh with an alcohol wipe, trying her best to ignore the way he winced and whined and—_

"_Swear you won't tell Mom or Gramps," Souta pleaded quietly, wiping at his tear stained face once again._

"_I promise," Kagome murmured, grabbing a cloth to clean the blood from her hands, because it was—_

—_**overflowing**_. _**Overwhelming.**_

_**Pain erupted in her abdomen, and she could feel the terror creeping up on her, the delirium threatening to take her so completely…**_

"_**I **_hate _**you."**_

_**The metal slid from her abdomen like liquid silver, and Kagome staggered back, her eyes wide and panicked and running with tears and rain because fire was ripping her belly apart, tearing it to shreds.**_

_**The fist connected with her head, sending her reeling, but all she could see was— **_

_**(deliriumpanichysteria)**_

—_**fear. Fear which was hot and heavy and violent, and oh so profound, because it was swallowing them both whole, her and her attacker, and somehow, she knew that it wasn't right, that things weren't supposed to be happening like this, not when she had tried to help him. **_

_**But the blood coated her hands, her clothes, her stomach, refusing to be washed away in the rain, even as long, firm fingers wrapped around her neck. They dug into her jugular, lifted her head up, tore at hair, her skin, her eyes and—**_

_**Her head cracked sickeningly against cement, once then twice then three times… blood collected and slicked her hair warm, even as her vision swam and started to go black, even as a choked horrified gasp reached her ears, even as the hands loosened from around her throat, finally allowing her to **_breathe.

"_**Oh Gods, fucking Gods, please no, please don't, I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry, **_Gods

_**But the world was already slipping away from her, graying dangerously at the edges.**_

"_**Please don't die, please don't die, **_please—"

"_**KAGOME."**_

"_**Please don't kill me."**_

_**The boy choked, cried, grabbed her hands, and she reached up slowly, sliding a bloody hand through the long strands of his hair…**_

"**_I'm... Higu… Higurashi…"_**

"_**KAGOME."**_

_**Kagome's eyelids fluttered through the pain and she was **_staring at Miroku as he peered down at her carefully, his gaze unnaturally detached and devoid of any emotion.

Kagome groaned and rolled to the side, gazing at Inuyasha's sullen form listlessly—there was the faint throb of pain in the vicinity of her throat, and rancid cotton once again coated her tongue. She groaned slightly, feeling the silent terror creeping up at her—that dream had been so vivid, so real. But just like before faces and names eluded her. Eluded her because she knew she had seen it once before, but it slithered away like the manipulative half-thought it was, and all Kagome could do was stare at Inuyasha, wanting answers but receiving none.

"What…" Kagome tried, only to cough violently. Her throat ached with sick-pain, like a throat that had gone raw and inflamed from a nasty cold. She swallowed down the rancid cotton taste, licked the roof of her mouth in disgust then pushed herself up into a sitting position.

Her night clothes were sticky with sweat, but Kagome had a feeling she should already have known this. She shuddered as she peeled the wet fabric away from her gingerly—Miroku and Inuyasha were both silent, both almost contemplative…

"What are you doing in here?" Kagome tried again, her voice raspy. Miroku smiled at her slightly before turning towards Inuyasha. Inuyasha glanced away, his golden eyes darkening with… _something… _before shrugging indifferently.

"Keh, stupid girl, can't even shut up when she's sleeping."

Kagome frowned, her brows furrowing slightly.

"I was talking in my sleep?"

She rubbed at her mouth tiredly, but when neither man deigned to answer, she huffed and stood, stretching and listening to the satisfying crack of her spine.

"What time is it?"

"Nearly noon," Miroku answered.

"Then why are you here?" Kagome asked through a smelly yawn. She pushed passed the two of them, ignoring Inuyasha's scoff of annoyance, but he followed her slowly, carefully, as though afraid—

"I'm on lunch," he ground out roughly. "Got a problem?"

"Not particularly," Kagome said dismissively, snatching up her toothbrush and dousing it in toothpaste.

Breathing punctuated the almost-silence; Inuyasha stood in the doorway, just as had he done two days prior—watching as Kagome brushed her teeth. Miroku stood in the hallway, his arms folded across his chest, and he leaned comfortably against the wall. He dressed in a dark purple shirt and black slacks, and once again, Kagome couldn't help but hate the fact that he pulled off his clothes so elegantly.

Inuyasha was almost the same way, but when he dressed, it was more comfortable. Rugged. Kagome wasn't sure how the hell he was able to make a suit look ruggedly sloppy, but he did. Perhaps it was the way they carried themselves… both different, yet so similar…

"Were you murdered?" Miroku asked quite suddenly. The question startled Kagome, and she jabbed her toothbrush into her tonsils painfully, gagging and choking and sputtering.

"_What?"_ she and Inuyasha both asked simultaneously. Foamy toothpaste dripped down Kagome's chin, tickled and stung, but she wiped it away quickly, staring at Miroku in wide-eyed horror.

What kind of question _was that?_

Was she murdered? How could… how could he…

"What the fuck business is it of yours?" Inuyasha snapped suddenly, glaring venomously at his friend. Miroku's lips twisted… he raised his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and pushed away from the wall, smiling curiously at the two of them.

"I was merely curious," Miroku amended. "There's no need to answer."

"But why did you want to know in the first place?" Kagome asked, leaning around Inuyasha to stare at Miroku's retreating back.

Miroku shrugged lightly. "I simply wondered why you begged us not to kill you, that's all."

Kagome's jaw dropped and Inuyasha's tightened—his eyes were like amber liquid, spilling over with anger and pain, and if Kagome gazed hard enough, she thought he would cry violence. It startled her into really _looking_ at Inuyasha, into taking in his posture—stiff and rigid and… wary. Guarded. Uncertain. He was angry at the path that this conversation was taking and afraid of it all the same.

Kagome's brow furrowed and she shifted her weight side to side.

Now that she thought about it… now that she considered it… Inuyasha was more open than she first believed. Yes, he was harsh and crass and arrogant, but his emotions showed through in different ways; he became quiet and contemplative when he was uncomfortable, his face turned gentle when he was thinking of something painful, and his anger—that was just his personality. The abrasiveness that wrapped around Inuyasha so inelegantly was something that had always been a part of him… what was it that made him that way? Kagome wondered.

There were so many reasons, so many possibilities…

…_he ran away, you know, when he was twelve…_

Kagome looked away from him wearily. Yes, there were things that could lead to that sort of pain, that sort of deep resounding ache, and Kagome didn't know what it was. It was more than a bad childhood—it went beyond something as simple as that.

But the fact still remained that she knew something about his past, one more thing to add to the list of clues—_Kikyou, Sesshoumaru, Rin_—and now… that _voice_…

"Do you remember?" Inuyasha asked Kagome. His voice was low and guarded, bordering on offended.

"Remember what?"

Inuyasha huffed in annoyance and glared at her. "How you died, idiot."

Kagome shrugged nonchalantly. "Not so much."

"Well why the hell _not_?" Inuyasha nearly snarled. Kagome blinked at him in surprise; the absolute fury in his voice left her heart beating rapidly and her fingers clutched at her toothbrush so tightly, her knuckles were white.

"You don't have to snap at me," Kagome spat back, her eyes narrowing in defense. "Besides, how should I know?"

"Well you're an Angel, aren't you?"

Kagome huffed and filled a tiny paper cup with mouthwash, trying her best to combat her rising anger. Yes, Inuyasha frightened her, but he was always making her so mad as well. Was it so much to ask for him to be polite? Was so hard for him just have a normal decent conversation without having to get all offended over something as ridiculous as this?

There were times when she pondered her death, times when she thought about it almost obsessively, but what was to be gained by thinking so hard? She already knew she was dead—but for some reason she couldn't comprehend, she also knew that it had been near painless. If she had been murdered… the thought chilled Kagome. What reason would anyone have to _murder_ her?

She had always been friendly, a hard-working student, though she did have difficulties in math from time to time, and she was interested in both sports and regular club activities. She had so many friends, so many people in which she had been able to talk to and have fun with…

The sound of rushing water suddenly brought Kagome out of her reverie, and she glanced at Inuyasha cautiously; his face was pulled down into a vicious scowl, his jaw twitching as he glared at her impatiently.

"Look," said Kagome forcefully as she turned off the tap. "Just because I'm an Angel doesn't mean I know everything, okay? I mean, would _you_ want to remember how _you_ died if you were me?"

Inuyasha hissed out a breath, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "_No._"

"Exactly," Kagome said superiorly, swirling the green mouthwash around in her paper cup. "Besides, in the case that an Angel _was_, uhm, _murdered_… when we're brought onto Earth, we're just like humans. We aren't infallible. We're just as susceptible to corruption as they are, and if someone was murdered, and they remembered, don't you think they'd want revenge?"

Inuyasha remained silent, his gaze riveted to the floor.

"I mean, it'd have to be hard, living and knowing that your killer was alive as well." Kagome paused and gazed at the cup in contemplation, watching avidly as the light reflected off the viridian mouthwash, casting strangely shaped prisms across the surface the liquid.

Then, "Would you want revenge?"

Kagome glanced up at Inuyasha in genuine surprise, her mouth going slack at the pure _vulnerability_ in his voice. For the first time since she'd seen him break down, since she'd seen that tortured look on his face as all of his memories surged to the forefront of his mind, she wanted to pull him to her, wrap her arms around his body and whisper soothing words in his ear. She wanted to chase all of his fears away, to let him know that he was safe and that no one could hurt him.

She could feel the compulsion pulling her forward, causing her to set down the cup, but as soon as she stepped towards him, his head snapped up and his eyes were hard. His gaze rooted her to the spot, left her heart beating rapidly.

Her mouth was suspiciously dry.

"Um," Kagome murmured, licking her lips uncertainly. She opened her mouth, but when no words came out, she swallowed then tried again. "I… I don't think I could get revenge on them by killing them, but… I don't think I could ever forgive them, either."

A long, tense moment passed between the two, and the feeling was still there, churning horribly inside of Kagome. Was this how all Angels felt when they saw their Tasks looking so defeated? The pain didn't just sit in Kagome's stomach; it surged up to her chest, pressed against her lungs, and tightened her throat. It ached seeing Inuyasha looking so angry, so lost, so…

He snorted then, his shoulders straightening before he glared past Kagome at nothing in particular.

"Keh," Inuyasha muttered sullenly, turning around to stalk out of the bathroom. "I wouldn't forgive the bastard either."

Kagome blinked as Inuyasha disappeared, and with him, the strange almost-ache that left her breathing erratically.

Her nerves were on fire—she could feel the residual effects of his wish… the wish he dared not to let himself think or voice or even _breathe_…

Kagome could feel it twining itself around her, forcing the latent powers in her to rise to the surface, but… it whispered against her mind so effortlessly, dipping in and out of the gorges of thought, and yet… so insubstantial, she couldn't even understand what it was trying to tell her…

Kagome's brow furrowed in agitation as she stared at the place Inuyasha had just vacated.

He had a wish, and yet he hadn't even _asked_ her…

Sighing, Kagome turned back to the sink, lifting the paper cup and knocking back the mint-flavored mouth-antiseptic, wincing as it stung her throat as soon as she started to gurgle.

Why was it that her Task was so odd? She had already spent so much time there, yet she wasn't any closer to figuring him out.

Kagome couldn't help but wonder if she ever _would._

But—_he ran away, you know, when he was twelve—_there were already so many things she knew, things that she could figure out, if given the time.

And she would.

Starting with Sesshoumaru.


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Note: **The prologue and chapter one have been revised and posted. Working on revising chapter two at this very moment.

* * *

**DIVINE ASPIRATION: CH. 12**

* * *

The sun dripped beams of warmth down onto Kohaku's face as he sat outside the school building, patiently waiting for his friend to arrive. Souta had been particularly energetic when he spoke to him on the phone the day before; his voice held a hidden depth, one that surprised Kohaku, but one he refused to question all the same.

Shifting his weight, Kohaku lifted bandaged hands and adjusted his uniform absently—gauze pulled at the blisters coated in ointment, and Kohaku grunted. He vaguely wished that the doctors had been kinder and prescribed him bitter tasting pills in order to combat the discomfort. He could still feel the almost-burn of Kagome's skin, hot and pale against the curve of his fingers.

Kohaku's brow furrowed as he gave a discontented sigh; despite the fact that he and Kagome were getting along so fabulously, she hadn't visited him. Kohaku may not have known Kagome long, but he thought he knew the measure of her—she was not the type of person to simply disregard a friend, especially if she had been the reason behind their injury.

Yet Kagome hadn't visited him. That thought put a bitter taste in his mouth almost as effortlessly as his quarrel with Sango had, for the conversation that had passed between the two siblings could have been nothing but. There was no way it was a fight—fighting was fists and feet and teeth and blood, and Kohaku had experienced that once before, ages ago.

(Ages which meant nothing and were not frozen in the solidity of time, like scratches carved upon a stone.)

Kohaku's eyes fluttered at the almost-memory, but it was so intangible that it flittered away, just as a group of girls moved passed him, giggling obnoxiously. It effectively snagged his attention, and Kohaku watched them with a sort of detached calm he would never have experienced otherwise.

He certainly hadn't experienced it with Sango. The anger had burned at him, like flames licking at the edges of blackened wood—_you should be used to abandonment_—and a weariness settled on Kohaku then, one he shouldn't have felt for years to come.

"Ko_ha_ku!"

Startled, Kohaku straightened almost immediately, lifting a bandaged hand to shield his eyes against the harsh light of the sun. Souta was sprinting towards him, bright and happy and—_not Souta_—causing Kohaku's lips to turn down in a concerned frown.

"Good morning!" Souta chirped cheerily, beaming at his friend.

Kohaku stirred restlessly; dread roiled painfully within his stomach. "Souta—"

"Hey, we still have time, right?" Souta asked, gesturing to the large clock on the face of the white-washed building. Kohaku glanced at it briefly before starting—Souta's fingers curled around his wrist, pressing gently against his pulse. He felt the faint _thump thump_ of it beat against the pads of Souta's fingers, the cool prick of flesh causing the thin hairs on Kohaku's arms to rise.

"What's going on?" Kohaku asked hesitantly even as Souta started to pull him away. Souta shrugged, aiming a vague smile over his shoulder. Vulnerability and uncertainty were not emotions that Kohaku was fond of acquainting himself with, yet they seemed to cling to him fastidiously; Souta was dragging him along the road, pushing past the swarms of students hurrying in the opposite direction.

He didn't like the smile that had adorned Souta's face. Kohaku knew that Souta wasn't infallible, that sadness was something which distorted his true personality constantly, but there was no way that Souta could have gotten over it so quickly. It was true, he had smiled… but Kohaku had seen him smile before, each one filled with as much poisonous loathing as the last.

Longing swept through Souta's eyes and mannerisms; he dreamt and desired and _yearned_ for something he could never have, and Kohaku knew what it was. He knew it like he knew his own mind (_but minds chipped and shattered, like fragile glass_) and although it was unrecognizable _now_, at least he had sense enough to know it.

Kohaku's fingers itched with the desire to pick up a pen, but the gauze clung to his hands covering ointment, blisters, and flesh wrinkled with moisture.

"Where are we going?" Kohaku asked, his voice colored with urgency.

"Don't worry," Souta said cheerily. "It will only take a minute." He paused then, as though in contemplation, before his fingers tightened around Kohaku's wrist. "I used to go there all the time, when I was younger."

"Go _where_?" The annoyance was mounting, but Souta was being purposefully vague. This attitude was not something Kohaku was used to, and it rubbed him wrong. His frown grew deeper as he looked at the back of his friends head in agitated curiosity—thick silken strands blew in the slight breeze, and the sun kissed their black uniforms, warming their skin through the thick fabrics.

The trek was long and tedious, and by the time Souta finally pulled them to a stop, the dull tolling of the school bells echoed dimly in the background.

Souta flashed a grin over his shoulder at his friend, but when Kohaku just returned the smile with a level stare, the smile faded.

"They've probably already closed the gates," Kohaku murmured, taking in his surroundings. They were in a park. A park with a yellow jungle-gym and bright red swings. There were cherry blossom trees clustered oddly in a single spot, and clipped bushes skirted the edges of the cobbled stone path that cut through the luscious green park.

Teeth bit gently on fleshy lips as Kohaku tossed his backpack against a bright blue metal pole; bark flew up, scuffing against Kohaku's shoes, but he ignored it. He could always clean them later.

Sighing slightly, he gave into the fact that Souta must have brought him here for a reason, just as he must've had a reason for his irregular attitude. Kohaku settled himself on the seat of the red swing, his hands curling awkwardly around the sun warmed metal chains, his legs bending and straightening as he rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

The subtle motion of the swing was reassuring—_wind whipped at his face, tousling his hair, and a bright happy laughter erupted from his throat, even as hands jarred the sudden movement of the swing, halting his almost-flight completely_—so Kohaku allowed himself to press his cheek to the chains.

Souta eyed him fondly—_fingers dug teasingly into his side, and he let out a squeal of laughter, even as burgundy-tinted eyes tilted him back on his crimson perch, glinting affectionately in the shadow-light—_then settled himself on the swing directly next to Kohaku's. The next few moments passed in a companionable silence; Kohaku did not understand Souta's need to be at the park, but he did understand that Souta would tell him when he felt like it.

Kohaku contented himself to people watching; so many people trickled down the path, using it as a short cut to get where they needed to be. A wayward child gave out a happy shriek and climbed the bright silver slide, speeding down it only to be caught and admonished by his mother. A couple, genial and happy, strolled along the wet cobble-stoned walkway, dressed in sleek looking business suits. Dew slicked the grass wet, and a little girl scrambled over to it and ran her fingers along it, staring in awe as flecks of moisture vaulted into the air.

Her mother—a woman with salt-and-pepper hair—stepped up to her and gripped her by her elbow, dragging her away slightly, and

_not so fast, Kohaku, you'll trip_

Souta had reached out, his fingers trailing along the cuff of Kohaku's uniform. His nails scraped against the small copper colored button, and Kohaku gazed at him distractedly, his mind (_chippedbrokenshattered_) conjuring images Kohaku knew he should recognize, but failed to all the same.

"You fought with your sister," Souta explained matter-of-factly. He gave a soft sigh; his brown eyes turned dark with sorrow, and his face went blank. A feeling of grotesque triumph sidled over Kohaku then—this was the Souta he was used to seeing, this unfathomable boy-Kagome, the one who was so _lostachinglonely_.

Souta tugged gently on Kohaku's cuff, causing the other boy's grip on the chain to slip. His fingers slipped around the older boy's wrist again; Kohaku's pulse beat erratically against Souta's fingers, but it was comforting, even as blunt nails scraped lightly against the tender flesh.

The swings rocked back and forth in sync, hands tangled together in mid-air, and for a moment, neither boy said a word.

"Sometimes I feel bad," Kohaku admitted reluctantly, his face twisting in displeasure.

_you're my brother_

"But," he continued quietly, "I refuse to be their replacement."

Souta tilted his head slightly, his face completely stolid. Even with the bitter knowledge that it wasn't real, Kohaku couldn't help but think he preferred his smile.

"She never needed me." Kohaku's voice had gone breathy, and Souta's fingers slipped to trail the underside of Kohaku's hand. He could feel the slight whisper of pressure against his blistered palm, and a slight shiver of…_something_…tickled his spine uncomfortably. "She never wanted me."

Terror deadened the sadness in his heart, and Kohaku glanced at Souta askance. His lips were curved into a pleasant smile, one that formed on the procession of amusement and hypocritical irony. His fingers trailed Kohaku's fingers, and then he jerked sideways again, his grip firm as it encircled Kohaku's wrist. It thrummed against Souta's fingers, and Kohaku settled into that strange realm of comfort, the one he had felt ever since he and Souta had become friends, ever since—

_you're my brother_

"Liar," Souta breathed suddenly, shaking his head. Kohaku glanced at him in genuine surprise, but Souta's lips were curved into a mysterious grin, one that sent shivers of discomfort skimming across the surface of Kohaku's skin.

"What are you talking about?" Kohaku cautioned, his brows furrowed. Souta gave a nonchalant shrug, dropping Kohaku's wrist all together. His fingers—undamaged—curled around the chains of the swing, and Souta began rocking back and forth, setting the swing in motion.

"Your sister. You." Souta paused then, his eyes squinting as he gazed up into the sunlit sky. "You say she doesn't need you, but you're such a liar."

The dread rose higher then, pressing uncomfortably against Kohaku's ribs. He rubbed his chest in discomfort, stilling his rocking motion almost immediately.

Souta's legs extended outwards just as he arched his back; the chains went taut, but his lips were turned down into an indiscernible frown once again, awkward and odd and very nearly bland.

"I'm only telling you what I know," Kohaku answered quietly, his hand gripping the thick dark fabric of his uniform. He could feel his heart thrumming faintly through his clothes; Souta just propelled himself higher.

"Then you don't know much of anything," Souta replied, his voice wavering as he flew back and forth next to his friend.

Kohaku scoffed.

"I'm not lying," he insisted, glaring at the discolored bark. Souta dug his feet into the ground, causing woodchips to fly in random directions. Two dark streaks were left on the ground, and moist bark clung to the soles of Souta's shoes, dangled from the hems of his slacks.

Souta titled his head in mocking curiosity, and Kohaku just glared at him harder.

"I'm _not_," he insisted. "I mean, she has her friends—she always loved them more than me. Wanted them more than me. What would she need me for?"

The bitterness was not lost on Souta, and he glanced away, his brown eyes turning dark. Kohaku watched him through thick lashes, the sudden resemblance Souta held with his sister disappearing as quickly as it had come.

Kagome's eyes never looked so sad.

"Every sister needs their brother," Souta responded quietly. "And every brother needs his sister."

Souta bit his lip, his fingers dancing nervously against the chains. He pushed himself onto his feet, only to settle back into the swing. Kohaku watched avidly; Souta's face had gone pallid. He looked ill and self-depreciating, but there was something else there, something that Kohaku thought he recognized but couldn't put a name to. It bothered him more than he wanted to admit, so he pushed that thought away, because no way… no way could Souta feel something so… so…

_Violent,_ his mind supplied, and Kohaku scowled bitterly, his palms itching under his gauze.

"Souta—"

"She was murdered," Souta explained suddenly, and Kohaku tried his best to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. Souta wasn't looking at him, but then he didn't need to. His words were powerful enough. Kohaku didn't think he'd be able to stand it if he had to watch Souta's expression twist into something unrecognizable.

"I mean, it wasn't like someone just murdered Sis in cold blood, but… there wasn't much of a difference anyways. We… Gramps was sick before her, you know, and we were already in so much debt. We couldn't keep… it was too much of a burden to keep her hospitalized, so we…" Souta choked then, and Kohaku could see the invisible tears streaking down his face.

"I didn't go to school for a long time, because I was helping out at the shrine." Souta quieted then, but Kohaku didn't dare say a word.

"Sis used to take care of me. I was bullied ever since elementary school, and she was always there to take care of me. She cleaned my cuts, bandaged me, helped me hide it from Mom and Gramps. She was always so kind and… I never stopped thinking about her, you know. I never stopped thinking about everything she did for me, all the fun we had. I know that she loved me, and I've never felt so glad to have a sister like her."

Kohaku nodded slightly, desperately wanting to reach out, but knowing better not to. It was enough that he was sitting there, beside his friend, listening to his every word.

"Mama still cries for her whenever she thinks she's alone." Souta turned to look at Kohaku then, tears gathering against his lashes. He shook his head in bitter resentment, and he gripped the swing chains tightly, his knuckles white from the pressure. "Gramps never tells his stories anymore, either. He used to just ramble on and on about the most obscure legends, and Sis never really cared much for them, but she'd sit there pretending to listen, humoring him. Everyone… changed… after she died. Even me."

Souta laughed, dark and bitter. "I don't think I've ever hated anyone more than I did then. Yeah, Sis may not have been killed in cold blood, but if it wasn't for _him_, she never would have… would have… _died._"

The tears fell, and with them, Kohaku felt his heart crack. He lifted a hand, ready to comfort, but Souta shook his head fiercely, surging to his feet.

"Souta…"

"You don't understand," Souta insisted, running his hands through his hair in agitation. "I thought… I _saw_ her. I saw Sis; I _saw her._"

Kohaku stilled. Souta shook his head, tufts of hair sticking out from between white knuckled fingers. The veins in Souta's hands bulged and something cold hit Kohaku, something vicious and horrible and _wicked_, and somehow, Kohaku knew that it was impossible.

Souta couldn't have seen her. He just _couldn't._

A vague half-thought entered his mind then, because he could distantly remember something in Kagome's face as she thought of her family, could distantly remember her telling him that no matter how much she missed her family, there was no way she could see them again, otherwise… otherwise…

"Sometimes," Kohaku murmured quietly, watching as Souta's hands dropped to his side and he stilled. "Sometimes, when I was younger, I'd always have dreams of when Sango was there for me, and we were happy. Sometimes, I'd miss her so much, that I'd actually imagine she was there when she really wasn't."

Souta's fist clenched at his sides, but he didn't say a word.

"Maybe… it's okay to want her to be there, to see her there when she really isn't," Kohaku explained quietly, the lie burning angrily against his throat. He gave a bitter laugh then, and shook his head, barely noticing when Souta's shoulders slumped suddenly. "I mean, it's just like you said right? Every brother needs his sister, no matter how impossible it is for them to be near one another."

Souta let out a quiet gasp of pain, and his shoulders shook with unsuppressed sadness. Kohaku watched avidly, his own eyes stinging at the pain of his own admission.

He should have hated Sango, wanted to, but sitting there, watching his friend… Souta's sadness was so much more profound than his own. It burned more bitterly than his did, and there was so much more hatred and loathing clouding Souta's heart… Kohaku wanted to reach out to him so badly, wanted to hold him and hug him, the way the Sango of his dreams used to do—_shh, it's alright, it's just a nightmare_—but that was impossible. Impossible because Souta was impossible to reach, impossible to touch. Souta was everything that Kohaku was not, and the lie was still bright and violent in his mind, digging trenches that Kohaku had no desire to have.

He bit back the confession and the guilt, allowing the silence to strike them both cold.

It was stifling.

"… What a sad story…"

Kohaku and Souta both jumped then, whirling around in shock.

Souta's eyes were wide and wet with tears as he gazed passed Kohaku, at the girl who was crouched behind them, gazing at them both with sympathetic brown eyes. Her hair was thick and brown, part of it cascading down her back while the other half was pulled into a side pony-tail. Her head was tilted slightly, and the green and white-striped collar of her uniform fluttered lightly in the wind.

Her fingers were curled around a partially limp flower—its petals were white, bruised with abuse, but it looked adorable and clumsy in her hands. She straightened then, her green pleated skirt ruffling around her thin legs. Loose white socks encased her calves, stopping right below the knee, and she smiled slightly, her free hand curling around the bright red tie that adorned her uniform. She scuffed her brown loafers in the dirt absently, a yellow and white checkered backpack resting negligently against her legs.

"It's rude to listen in on other people's conversations," Kohaku ventured as soon as he got over his initial shock. Next to him, Souta rubbed his face dry, that same blank expression smoothing over his features.

The girl giggled in slight embarrassment, shrugging her shoulders absently. "Jaken says so too, but his reactions are funny to watch, especially when he's caught talking about something embarrassing."

"What are you—" Kohaku said, right before Souta asked, "You go to our school, don't you?"

The girl nodded, grinning brightly. "Yup! We're in the same class!"

Souta looked oddly baffled.

The girl just giggled. "I sit three seats behind you," she explained exuberantly, gesturing wildly. "I tried introducing myself to you once, but you're always so quiet! But that's okay, because now I finally got the chance."

She nodded, her face set in determination. "I'm Rin, from class three. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She bowed at the waist, her hair falling over her shoulder in thick waves. Both boys watched in avid curiosity as she straightened, her lips curving into a huge grin. She clutched the wilting flower in her hand tightly, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waited for their introductions.

Kohaku cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away, bowing stiffly. "I'm Kohaku, from class two."

Rin smiled enthusiastically. Souta spared his friend a glance, and when Kohaku offered a helpless shrug, the bland expression melted slightly, and he bowed as well.

"Higurashi Souta."

Rin laughed. "You don't have to be so formal," she explained giddily, tossing the abused flower away. "Are you planning on going to school today?"

Kohaku shook his head.

"_Good_. As my new friends, it's _your_ job to escort me anywhere I want."

"No one said anything about friends," Kohaku muttered petulantly, and Souta eyed him carefully, even as Rin's brow furrowed in thought.

"You should be nicer," Souta said gently. "I think it's nice, having friends."

Rin laughed again and picked up her backpack, slinging it onto her back. Souta's words left a bitter taste in Kohaku's mouth, because _friends don't lie_, but Kohaku already had. The guilt that he had pushed away earlier festered slightly, but he forced it away, turning to watch Rin guardedly.

She just smiled at him.

Sighing slightly, Kohaku moved towards the bright blue pole to pick up his backpack, and Souta did the same, the two of them pulling the straps across their shoulders.

"So are we going?" Rin asked, bouncing once more.

"Yes," Kohaku breathed, and Rin clapped. Souta smiled awkwardly.

"But we have to be careful where we do go," Rin explained as she grabbed both of them by their wrists and started to drag them towards the cobble-stoned walkway. "Papa knows I was late, but he told me in no uncertain terms that I had to get to school, even if it did result in a tardy. But I was just so captivated by your story!"

Both Kohaku and Souta tensed at that, but neither said a word.

"Anyways, if he catches me, I'll be in so much trouble, especially since I've never ditched school, but it's so exciting, too!" Rin paused in her tirade, nodding in determination. "Have you ever been to an arcade?"

"Yes," Kohaku replied, just as Souta answered, "No."

"Me neither," Rin explained. "Papa doesn't like me going to them; he thinks I should focus on studying more, but the Mama Izayoi takes me out sometimes. Just never to arcades. Can we go?"

"Yes," Kohaku answered once more, and Rin beamed at him.

"Then afterwards, we should go to a movie and—oh—a café! I just love strawberry shortcake."

"That's… nice," Kohaku replied, and Souta smiled at him fondly. The older boy shook his head slightly, even as the three paused at the crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn green. Rin stood between them, and Souta shifted slightly, brushing against her. Rin blinked at him curiously, but Souta ignored it, brushing his knuckles against Kohaku's arm.

Kohaku watched him carefully, the quiet message—_thank you_—hovering awkwardly in the air between them. He didn't know what to say or how to respond, but then Souta was turning away from him and leading them across the paint-lined street, so Kohaku knew no words were needed.

The guilt burned at him anyways.

He was _such_ a liar.

* * *

Kagome waited until Miroku had left for the afternoon—to give Inuyasha and Sango their ritual lunches, no doubt—before implementing her plan. It wasn't very complex, nor very well thought out, but it was the best that Kagome had to work with. She hadn't a clue of how to get into contact with Sesshoumaru, and going through all of the grueling, mind-numbing work that she had been forced to deal with when she was first searching for Inuyasha was something that she did not want to deal with again.

But Inuyasha had always been particularly careless, and although Kagome knew it wasn't the best way to go about things, asking was completely out of the question. She knew how Inuyasha reacted to questions, had seen the horrible anger in his eyes and she didn't want to experience that again. Not when sneaking and snooping was _so much easier._

And he wouldn't have to know.

Didn't _have_ to.

Still, the dread coiled painfully in her stomach, and it was all Kagome could do to push it away.

Slowly, she crept down the hallway and stopped in front of Inuyasha's door. It was the same as hers, white and dull and so very boring, but behind it she knew there were secrets, secrets that no one was supposed to know about, secrets that _she_ wasn't supposed to know about, and they trusted her—Sango, Miroku, _Inuyasha—_they trusted her not to delve until they were ready, until they wanted her to, and yet… and yet…

Kagome gripped the doorknob and turned.

The room was empty.

Empty and boring and—was this really how Inuyasha spent his isolation? In an empty room? Yes, there was a bed, and yes, there was a wardrobe and a side table, but that was all. There were no pictures adorning the walls, no plants, no nothing. Frowning slightly, Kagome stepped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Her fingers fumbled along the wall until she found the light switch and then she was standing underneath the fluorescent lighting, a frown etched onto her face.

It was just… odd. And not like Inuyasha.

Despite his aversion to anyone know something about him, Kagome thought he would've at least held _some_ emotional attachments. She knew how he felt about his friends, had seen the look on his face as soon as Kikyou had been mentioned… and what about his brother? What about his niece? Kagome had seen that, too, and although Inuyasha burned with bitter resentment towards his brother, she had seen nothing but complete affection when it came to Rin.

Rin who seemed to exemplify brightness and beauty and utter happiness…

Sighing lightly, Kagome pushed the thought out of her head, choosing to focus on the task on hand. There had to be something here which would lead her closer to Sesshoumaru, to the one person who seemed to be the most important in the scheme of things. Yes, Kikyou was important too, but she had little to do with Inuyasha and more to do with Miroku—siblings, Miroku had said. They were siblings. Kikyou was his elder sister, and although Kagome had almost missed it… what did Kikyou feel? Kagome wondered. What did she feel when she suddenly had everything swept out from underneath her?

Had she accepted it? Had she accepted the fact that her brother, one who was meant to be dead, was truly alive? The thought caused Kagome's heart to ache, because she had just seen Souta, had seen him bleeding and crying and being so grateful, but then he had disappeared almost as quickly as he had appeared, and instead of loving happiness, there was terror and delirium and hysteria.

Kagome wanted to push the dream out of her mind, wanted to think of something else, but she couldn't. Because whenever she thought of Souta, she thought of the dream, the dream that tainted her memories of him and—

_Were you murdered?_

The question plagued Kagome, just as Miroku's curious nonchalance did. Just as Inuyasha's strange resentment did. It was odd, thinking about it in such terms, and yet…

Sighing, Kagome pushed away from the door and settled herself on Inuyasha's bed.

She gazed wearily around the empty room, wishing she could think of anything else, wishing that dream-thoughts would just leave her alone, but there was just so much there, so much to think about, and although she had the nightmare once before, Inuyasha and Miroku had never thought to comment on it. Had never thought to save her from it.

A strange warmth blossomed in her chest, and Kagome smiled fondly, her eyes settling on a small silver frame laying face down in Inuyasha's bedside table. Her fingers trailed over it absently as she thought of the comfort they had been willing to offer—even though it was only through their presence, and even though Miroku had stirred up more discomforting questions, the fact remained that they had still woken her up, that they had still been there to save her from the nightmare. The fact remained that they still… _cared._

Cared enough to wake her. Cared enough to save her. The warmth grew stronger so Kagome gripped the picture and flipped it over.

"Oh," Kagome breathed as she stared down at the picture with wide eyes. "_Oh._"

The warmth that flooded her heart only moments before dwindled away to nothing, and before she realized what she was doing, Kagome flipped the frame over and shifted the little metal clasps holding the back down. A thin layer of protective paper rested against the back of the photo, and without a single thought, Kagome picked it up and tossed it aside, her pulse beating erratically as she stared down at the almost illegible writing, hardly daring to believe her eyes. Not _wanting_ to. Because it couldn't be true, it just _couldn't_ be, and yet—

_I heard he's getting married._

_Married_, Kagome thought numbly as she stared down at the writing on the back of the page. _Inuyasha's getting married._

But that couldn't be true, not then, because if he was, then Kagome would have met her, would have seen her face, and—

But she had. Kagome knew she had. She just didn't know it at the time. Didn't know it until _now._ Didn't know that—

_Inuyasha loves her, and you hate him for it._

Kagome laughed then, harsh and bitter and horrible, because she had known, had known it from the moment she had seen Inuyasha and Kikyou interact with one another in that phantom memory. She had seen the affection in both of their eyes, had guessed at the extent of their relationship, but for some reason… for some reason she couldn't comprehend, she didn't think it had been so complex. So intimate. So _deep._

Warily, Kagome ran her fingers over the hastily scrawled ink adorning the back of the photo—_Inuyasha's & Kikyou's engagement dinner_—and she could feel her chest tightening slightly, because she should have known, should have _seen it_…

And she had seen it, just not as clearly as she was meant to. And although it hurt to know that he had kept something so dear to him secret from her, Kagome thought she could understand. She could understand because of the expression on his face, so gentle and warm, despite the abrasive front he kept up, even when he had eyes only for her. His eyes were jaded, even then, but he tried so hard, just for her. Just for Kikyou. It was obvious to see that he loved her, still did, if the fact that he kept a picture of them together next to his bed.

But it had been turned face down.

That thought caused Kagome to frown, and almost methodically, she closed the back of the picture frame, fastened the metal clasp back over the velvet-like material.

With a hint of ill-at-ease triumph, she placed the frame face down against the dresser and stood, moving around the room. It was difficult attempting to digest that information, attempting to wrap her mind around what she had seen.

Kagome couldn't help but wonder what Inuyasha was like when he wasn't being so abrasive and rude, couldn't help but wonder what he was like when he was gentle. She had seen his expression shift rapidly, but the gentleness was gone almost as soon as it had appeared. It was as if he didn't want anyone to notice that he could feel that way, that vulnerability was something he was so closely acquainted with…

Kagome dropped to her knees as she looked under the bed, but only a thin layer of dust and fuzz decorated the white carpet. Sighing, Kagome pushed herself upward and moved towards the wardrobe. The discomfort and guilt she felt towards snooping through Inuyasha's belongings was still there, and almost distantly, she could remember Miroku telling her something important, something that gave her horrible nightmares, and—_sin is a manifestation of the darker parts of an Angel's soul._ Was that was causing her so much guilt? The fact that she was doing something so completely dishonest that it caused her heart to ache and her hands to tremble? Sure, it was dishonest, yet…

_Angel's don't lie._

Irritation spiked through Kagome then, and she pushed the uncomfortable thoughts away, instead choosing to focus on the task at hand. She had already dedicated herself to this half-baked plan, and although she knew it wasn't going to end well, although she knew that there was no way she could get anything substantial out of the ordeal, it was all she had. There had to be something; a clue, a hint, _anything_… that would lead her in the right direction. Taking scheduled trips into Inuyasha's subconscious was not something that she could do, especially since after the first incident, Inuyasha had been extremely careful not to let her come anywhere near him.

If anything, the incident made him more guarded around the Angel, though he did have his moments of vulnerability. Each time Kagome had attempted to capitalize on that moment though, he had snapped out of it, quickly and efficiently, and it was becoming nearly impossible to get near him.

Miroku was somewhat of a hindrance, too, although he did tend to focus more on Sango than he did on Kagome. That was how Kagome felt at any rate. Still, there were times when Kagome felt as though she had Miroku's complete attention, as discerning as that was, and it left her feeling anxious. Anxious because she wasn't the one Miroku was supposed to be focusing on; it was Sango and Sango alone that Miroku was supposed to love, and although Kagome's relationship with Miroku bordered on friendship… she couldn't help but wonder what it was that had caused Miroku and Sango's relationship to go so wrong.

Miroku had implied that they had been something more once, something sweet and kind and wonderful, but his duties had gotten in the way. Even so, Kagome didn't think that was all there was to the situation. There was something else, something more, something that should have been there, something that should have been obvious and yet…

Frowning slightly, Kagome threw open Inuyasha's wardrobe and started rifling through it.

There was nothing but clothes, clothes, and more clothes. Ties and undershirts. Collared shirts and T-shirts. Blazers and slacks. Jeans and shorts. Sighing once more, Kagome closed the dresser and sat back on Inuyasha's bed, her lips pursed in thought.

There had to be _something_ which would help her figure something out about Inuyasha. Some hint… a photo album, an address book… _something._ Inuyasha was careless, but he wasn't careless enough to leave his cellphone or his palm pilot lying about, and even if he did, Miroku would be quick to sweep them up.

He was always so careful when it came to her, after all. It was as though he wanted Kagome to work for the information, to do something more than sneaking and snooping and—huffing in irritation, Kagome fell back against Inuyasha's bed, her hair fanning out around her head. The mattress creaked and paper crinkled, but the comforter was soft against Kagome's skin, even as she turned on her side and inhaled.

Inuyasha's scent pervaded her senses, and Kagome felt her cheeks warm slightly, even as she gazed at the crinkled piece of paper she had discarded in her haste to get some answers.

Her fingers pressed down on the paper lightly, and she frowned as it crinkled against the pressure she exerted once more.

She still couldn't believe it.

The picture had been obvious, and the writing on the back so straightforward, and yet… even still it had been hard to believe. Difficult to swallow. Inuyasha didn't seem to be the type of person to spend the rest of his life with someone, yet he had. Kagome didn't know whether or not he had been the one to propose, but if he had…

She didn't even want to contemplate the hidden depths to Inuyasha, because although they were intriguing, they were so frightening as well. There were so many layers to him, to his thoughts, and although it should have been obvious from the beginning… sighing loudly in frustration, Kagome grabbed the paper and sat up, snatching the silver picture frame off of the bedside table.

She worked open the clasps easily, shifted the velvet backing open, and the writing assaulted her vision once again—_Inuyasha's & Kikyou's engagement dinner_—and before she even realized what she had done, she slammed the backing closed again, only to frown at the wall.

"Get it together, Kagome," she whispered to herself. "It's only natural that Inuyasha would have experienced something like that at least once in his life. Out of everyone, he deserves that sort of happiness the most. You should _know_ that."

But the odd feeling in her chest still hadn't left, and Kagome couldn't bring herself to open the picture again.

Letting loose another sigh, she shifted the metal clasps closed and set the picture back against the dresser, face down. It was odd, even as the paper crinkled in her fingers, and almost absently, Kagome stood and exited Inuyasha's room, closing the door behind her silently. She didn't know what to think, what to feel, so instead she turned the paper over in her hands, gazing ahead silently as she descended the stairs.

The house was silent, despite the almost deafening blare of the television coming from the living room. It was always so quiet whenever she was alone, whenever Miroku had left. The silence seemed oppressive then, horribly so, and although Kagome did her best to fill in her moments of loneliness, the isolation hit her tenfold each time.

She didn't know why it was so apparent—it hadn't been that way in the Heavens, but now that she was on earth—_Angels aren't infallible._ Isn't that what she had told Inuyasha? No matter how much she had asked, the only time she had been allowed to visit Inuyasha's job was when she had first appeared. It seemed so long ago, but now… yes, Miroku, Sango, and Inuyasha were constants in her life, but they seemed so very far away, despite everything…

Kagome wondered if Miroku ever felt this way, when he was an Angel.

As soon as it entered her mind, however, she pushed the thought away and glanced at the abused paper in her hand, crinkled and smudged and—

Kagome froze.

Her grip went slack, and the paper almost fluttered from her hand, but she grabbed it once again and stared at the thick black writing… so completely different from the hastily scrawled writing on the back of photograph, but somehow, Kagome didn't doubt who'd written it. She had seen Inuyasha's writing once before, after all, it was just as sloppy and messy as his personality, but this… _this…_

_It hasn't been used in a while._

Kagome's eyes widened at the distant memory, the memory that happened almost as soon as she had started to settle into the house, and of course it made sense, because there had been bras and panties and pajamas settled into a dresser, waiting for their owner to return, waiting for the person who they belonged to, and Kikyou and Inuyasha were to be _married._

Kagome's fingers trailed over the words absently, stilling as soon as they reached the numbers.

It would be so easy to call, to pick up the phone and dial the numbers and just _ask,_ but… hesitantly, Kagome folded the paper closed and shoved it into the pocket of her jeans.

Yes, it would be so easy, but could she honestly betray Inuyasha's trust like that?

It had been so difficult working to where she was now, and although Inuyasha was wary of her, he had made concessions for her. He had cared enough to comfort her when Miroku had violated her, had cared enough to wake her from her nightmares. He gave her comfort and joked around with her and argued with her _and_ on her behalf, and although they were Angel and Task, they were something resembling friends as well, and his faked abrasiveness whenever those situations arose left Kagome feeling warm inside.

Embarrassment caused her cheeks to tinge red, because it wasn't something she was supposed to be embarrassed about, but she was anyways. He argued with her when she was feeling odd, just to make her more comfortable, had even stayed with her when she had delved into his memories. Hell, he had even _admitted_ to some of the things she had asked him… let her see a part of him that he would have kept hidden otherwise.

And he hadn't denied her epiphany. He hadn't denied a single thing when she had claimed that he loved Kikyou, just comforted her, because Miroku had tried to break her, had tried to hurt her in the worst way possible just because he was hurting, and still… _still_, Inuyasha argued with her, brought her back to a place she was more familiar with.

He had been there for her and she hadn't even _noticed._

Guilt festered, and Kagome stuffed her hands into her jean pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. She ignored the words and just gazed at the numbers—numbers that held so much information, that could give her so many answers…

Biting her lip absently, Kagome bounced in her spot, unsure of whether or not she should actually call it.

Inuyasha had been there for her, after all. It wasn't his job to do these things for her, but he had, regardless. He had done something that _she_ was supposed to do for _him_, and yet… she was still floundering, still taking baby steps. And although it was dishonest, it was the best way she could help him, because she had no answers, but Kikyou _did_, and—

She was his Angel. She had to help him.

And he wanted her to. Had almost wished for it. But something held him back, something kept him from doing it, and Kagome needed to know what it was.

So she could help him. So she could—

Not wanting to think anymore, Kagome jumped up and moved into kitchen. She picked up the phone and dialed the number quickly, shoving the paper back into her pocket.

The phone rang and rang and rang and rang and Kagome thought her heart would explode from anticipation alone, didn't know what she would say when someone answered, but she had to say something, _anything, _because Inuyasha needed it, needed help and Kagome wanted to give it to him. Wanted to help him because it was what she was meant to do, and although he irritated her, they were _friends _(or something like it) because friends comforted one another and listened and protected and—

_You can't save him, either._

She would try, regardless. She didn't care what whispery voices said or thought, because in the end, they didn't matter. No. The only person who mattered was—

"Inuyasha?"

Kagome went still.

"Hello?" The feminine voice asked again, and it was all Kagome could do not to slam the receiver back onto its cradle.

Kagome's hand tightened against the receiver and she let out a shaky breath, wishing that her heart would stop beating so fast. That she would quit feeling so guilty.

"Uh, uhm, no. I… um… is this Kikyou?"

There was a slight pause, and then, "This is Kikyou. May I ask whose calling?"

"Oh," Kagome breathed anxiously, rubbing her sweaty palm against the scratchy fabric of her jeans. "My name is Kagome. Kagome Higurashi. I'm a… friend… of Inuyasha's."

There was even more silence, and it was just as long as uncomfortable as the first stretch, but Kagome bore it anyways. She bore it because she knew Kikyou was thinking, thinking long and hard about what she wanted to say, but in the end it wouldn't matter, because it was just Inuyasha that mattered, not the two of them, just Inuyasha and Inuyasha alone.

"I see," Kikyou replied quietly, her voice hard. "So you're Kagome. Inuyasha's told much about you."

Kagome blinked at the random admission, unsure of how to react. "Really? Like what?"

Kikyou hummed disinterestedly. "Nothing important." She paused. "Kagome."

"Yes?"

"Why are you calling from Inuyasha's house phone?"

Kagome started at the unexpected question, and something close to discomfort clawed its way through her chest, leaving her feeling unnaturally vulnerable.

"Oh, well," Kagome started uncertainly. "I… I live with him."

Silence met her answer.

Silence, silence, and more silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Silen--

"I see," Kikyou reiterated, but her voice was unreadable. Cold. Kagome didn't like the way it left her feeling, as though she were inadequate, a nuisance, but she felt it anyways, and she hated it. She hated the way it left her feeling so small and horrible, because she could remember the warmth that Kikyou felt towards Inuyasha, could remember it in the way she had looked at him and held him and—

"It's been a while since I last saw Inuyasha," Kikyou continued, snapping Kagome out of her insecure thoughts. "Perhaps it's time I came by for a visit."

Kagome's eyes widened. "I… _what?_"

"I have some time off soon, anyways. It would be a good way to spend my vacation." Kikyou paused once more, but instead of cold disdain, it was filled with dark amusement. _Like Miroku, _Kagome thought absently, her eyes wide as she stared at the wall. "Thank you, Higurashi Kagome, for reminding me how long it's been. It's much appreciated."

"But… I… wait, you can't—"

"Oh, yes," Kikyou spoke, completely ignoring Kagome's feeble protest. "Don't forget to let Inuyasha know I'm visiting. I'm afraid I won't have time to tell him myself. Have a nice day."

The line went dead.

Dazed, Kagome set the phone back into its cradle, even as keys rattled in the door. She heard it swing open, heard Miroku announce that he was back… she even heard the sound of his shoes hitting the ground before he moved through the house, seeking her out.

He found her, not a moment later, her hand still resting absently against the warm receiver, eyes wide as she tried to formulate a response. But despite everything, despite whatever good intentions she had felt earlier, despite whatever resolve she had that strengthened her, she had allowed Kikyou to rule the conversation, to plow over her, to leave her insecure and uncertain and—

"Inuyasha's going to kill me," Kagome murmured, her fingers slipping from the receiver.

Miroku regarded her curiously, his lips curving up into a darkly amused smile that Kagome found anything but funny.

"Why the hell would I want to kill you?"

But it made a whole lot of sense, all things considered.

Almost warily, Kagome turned to stare at the two men, and—oh, gods, Sango was there, _too_, and—

Her terror must have registered on her face, because they all frowned and regarded her curiously, but still, Kagome could only stare at them with wide eyes, one horrible, Inuyasha-like thought running rampant through her mind.

"_Shit._"


End file.
